


It Shouldn't Make Sense

by MeghanAnna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, you're the worst au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5322476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanAnna/pseuds/MeghanAnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke meet at Bellamy's ex's wedding. He's there to show Roma how fine he is. She's there to show Lexa how fine <i>she</i> is. They end up finding out how fine they actually are, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a _You're the Worst_ au that no one asked for. Mainly, I think no one is asking for it because no one is watching it. You should all change that. It's brilliant. 
> 
> This story is supposed to be messy and complicated, so be prepared.

Bellamy knows better than to go to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. Really, he does. But… It was just so tempting—to go there and start some kind of trouble, make all kinds of noise to make her see what she had given up in favor of marrying someone much less attractive and much more boring. But then he sees the smile on Roma’s face and, more importantly, the smile in her eyes. He knows better than to show up at an ex’s wedding, but he  _really_ knows better than to try and screw up somebody’s real happiness. Because he knows they never had it when they were together. Not really.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” 

“Not so much anymore,” he answers before even looking to see who’s talking to him. She’s smaller, blonde, familiar, but he doesn’t  _know_ her. He’s seen her, from his days with Roma, but he can’t remember her name or her connection. 

She’s not even looking at him, or Roma and her new husband, but across the room at Roma’s friend. “You’re Lexa’s girlfriend, right?”  _Clarke._ He remembers suddenly and she finally looks at him, but not with a pleasant smile or even a dirty look, just a confused glare. “Or… Not?” 

“I’m Lexa’s ex… something. I don’t know? Fuck buddy? It doesn’t matter, whatever it is, it’s over and I’m fine,” she says, shrugging. Bellamy can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of him and it earns him another glare, but this time, it’s a little darker. “What’s so funny, Chuckles?” 

“When people are actually fine, they don’t usually offer that information without being prompted,” he explains and she fully turns her body toward him now. “You don’t seem fine.” 

“At least I’m not at my ex-girlfriend’s wedding, watching her dance with her husband while she’s in a sickeningly happy daze,” she reminds him and the smile falls off his face. “How fineare  _you_?” She spits out and he narrows his eyes at her.

And the next thing he knows, they’re stumbling through his house, ripping clothes off of each other. His jacket hits the floor, her cardigan follows. He nearly makes them both fall when he tries toeing off his shoes, but she catches herself against the end table next to his couch and he follows her lips with his until they’re kissing again. She pushes herself to sit on the table and he finally pulls away from her so he can yank off his shoes successfully. 

“You know what?” She says when his lips follow the deep cut of her dress, “I’ve heard you’re kind of an asshole.” 

“You know what?” He asks before pulling the straps down her arms, exposing her purple lace bra. “I kind of am.”

She just laughs and pulls him back up to kiss her and they go back to disrobing each other. Soon, his shirt is off and he’s successfully bared her breasts, and all cognitive thought leaves his mind. All he sees, all he cares about, are what he had assumed were great breasts made even more enticing by a clever bra, but what are, in fact, just  _perfect_ breasts all on their own. His hand finds one while his mouth makes work of the other. When she moans and squeezes his hand to hold her tighter, he chuckles against her skin and she tightens her legs around him. 

“I’m Clarke, by the way,” she tells him breathlessly and he laughs again before kissing her senseless. “I don’t think I told you that.”

“I remember your name,” he tells her. “Bellamy.”

“I know.” 

“Good.”

Somehow, they make it to his room where they finally finish undressing. It’s a whirlwind of hands and tongues, moans and dirty words. It’s  _great_  and Bellamy could do it for hours… if he had that kind of stamina, which he doesn’t when he’s halfway to hungover. When she climaxes, it’s with the most amazing sound Bellamy’s ever heard and he follows seconds later. While he rests boneless on top of her, she runs her tiny hands through his sweaty curls and he feels so comforted he could fall asleep. But, then, he remembers who she is and, more importantly, who he is. He is the guy who stopped believing in relationships and comfort and… people. He is the guy that got dumped and fell into a deep hole of despair. So, he becomes the guy that rolls to the other side of his bed and stares at the ceiling.

“Well, that was…” 

“That was good,” she says, stretching out on his bed before rolling onto her side to look at him. “What do you have to eat?”

Bellamy almost laughs, but then his stomach rumbles and he realizes how hungry he is and how little he had to eat at Roma’s wedding. “Come on,” he says, tossing a shirt at her before pulling on his boxers. 

She follows him to the kitchen, buttoning up his shirt that is the perfect amount of too big on her. When he starts pulling leftover cartons of Chinese out of his fridge, she sits on his counter, watching him. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, just kicks her feet back and forth against his lower cabinets. 

“This okay?” He asks, nodding at the food sitting next to her.  She shrugs and wraps her foot around his wrist. When he looks at her, she smiles and motions for him to stand in front of her, so he does. “Hmm?”

“I don’t do this,” she admits and he smirks because ever since he broke up with Roma, he does it a lot. 

“What? Eat?” He asks, playing coy and she knees him in the side and he laughs.

“I don’t do  _this_ ,” she says again and, this time, he nods. “But I also don’t do relationships, so I’m kind of lost. I don’t know  _what_ I’m doing.”

“We just had sex and now we’re going to eat some day old cashew chicken and pork fried rice,” he tells her and she smiles. He actually can’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss her. Ever since their conversation at the wedding, he’s wanted to touch her in some way at all times. He doesn’t do  _that_. But Clarke has this thing about her—this thing he can’t quite figure out, but that he wants to so badly. And he hates that because he has vowed to hate women and relationships. Shit.

After about a minute of making out on his counter, she laughs and pushes him away and it only bruises his ego, like, a very little bit. “I’m fucking hungry,” she laughs and he smiles before going about heating up the food. When the microwave beeps, he sits next to her and they eat out of the containers that are sitting between their thighs.

“I didn’t really know you were friends with Roma,” he says finally as a little bit of rice tumbles onto his kitchen floor. 

“I’m not. My best friend works with her and I made her take me as her plus one so I could show off to Lexa how fine I am,” she shrugs. “I’m actually really surprised she invited the last man she slept with before the man she married.” 

“She did it to show off how fine  _she_ is,” he reasons and she nods in understanding. “And I went to do exactly the same. Or, well, to embarrass her and ruin her perfect wedding.” 

“You didn’t, though,” she says thoughtfully and he sighs, resting his head against the cabinet behind him. 

“You distracted me with your boobs,” he lies and she pushes them together so they’re nearly falling out of his shirt. “Yes, like that,” he laughs. “No, I just… I think I started to grow up in that moment I was looking at her. She deserves to be happy. Someone does, I guess.” 

“I think we’re both doing fine, you know? I didn’t even talk to Lexa tonight. You didn’t ruin a perfectly boring wedding. Plus, we had pretty good sex with mysterious semi-strangers. All arrows point to  _fine_.” 

Bellamy has to agree. Sleeping with someone isn’t new for him; he does it all the time, but enjoying talking to that person is new. It’s nice, if a little weird and worrisome, but _nice_. He feels fine. “Wait,” he thinks suddenly, pushing the food away from them both. “ _Pretty_ good sex?”

Clarke grins and pushes herself closer to him, so their thighs are touching and their ankles are locked. “I’m willing to give you another chance, to see if we can upgrade that to fucking awesome sex.”

“That is a challenge that I am willing to accept,” he says and he’s only a little bit ashamed at how breathless he sounds. But her lips are all he can see—unless he looks down to where she’s still almost falling out of his shirt or even further where her legs are perfectly bared to him. When she finally leans up to kiss him, he responds immediately and is honestly shocked that they make it all the way back to his room before getting that shirt off of her.

And this time, the sex is _fucking awesome_. And he knows she feels the same because, well, he’s not deaf or blind. She actually collapses against him when it’s all over and kisses his chest lazily a few times. His arm finds its way around her and he runs his fingers through her hair and this time it’s Clarke who remembers who they are to each other— _what_ they are to each other. Nothing.

When she rolls away from him, he scoots as far from her as possible and sighs. “Right,” he says, curling an arm under his head. “I should get to sleep. It’s late.”

Clarke nods and pulls his comforter to her chin and closes her eyes. Bellamy sits up in surprise because _this_ is not what he was expecting.

“Calm down, man,” she tells him without even opening her eyes. “Like you said, it’s late. And we’re both tired. That’s all this is.”

He considers it because she’s right and he actually doesn’t _mind_ her being there. In fact, if he was a better man—less of an asshole—he’d probably even tell her that. As it is, though, he just lays down again and looks at her before falling asleep.

\--

The sounds from the kitchen wake Bellamy up in the morning and he knows his sister is home, looking for food. He almost ignores it because Octavia breaking into his house, scavenging for food is nothing new, but then he feels the arm around his middle tighten for a second before loosening again and he finally opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is a head full of blonde hair against his chest and his hand on her hip. They’re _cuddling_. He does his best not to wake Clarke as he shimmies away from her and out of bed. He pulls on some sweatpants and looks back at her once more before going to find his sister.

She’s on his counter, waiting for something in the toaster to cook. She just smiles at him when she sees him and he nods at her before looking back at his room, afraid Clarke has woken up and followed him out there.

“Do they not feed you at that fancy school I’m paying for?” He asks her and she laughs sarcastically until he glares at her.

“What can I say? I missed my big brother,” she smiles and he rolls his eyes before his own smile breaks through. “And Miller is looking at my brakes for me.”

“Of course he is,” he laughs, opening his freezer. “Are you eating my waffles?”

“Sure am.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you secretly buy them to give me a reason to come home at all,” she reminds him and he nods because, well, she’s not wrong. Not that she couldn’t buy her own box of Eggo waffles, but… He likes having her around. He misses it, actually. Living with Miller is fine, great even, but it’s not the same as family. It’s not the same as Octavia.

Just as her waffles pop out of the toaster and Bellamy has all but forgotten about the girl in his bed—well, not the girl, but the fact that she was still there—Clarke stumbles gracelessly into the living room. Thankfully, she’s wearing more than just his shirt. She’s also got some of his boxers on. And he hates how right she looks in them, in his house.

“Oh,” she says when she looks up and sees Bellamy leaning against the counter next to Octavia. He looks at her and then at his sister to find a huge smile on her face. “Sorry?”

“Clarke, this is my sister,” he says quickly and her face falls into something similar to relief. Before he’s able to actually introduce his sister, she’s on the floor and practically running toward Clarke.

“Octavia,” she says, her voice an octave higher than it needs to be and Bellamy rolls his eyes and runs his hand across the back of his neck. Clarke looks at him with a question in her eyes and he just shrugs. She nods and smiles at his sister.

“Nice to meet you,” she says and Octavia shakes her hand.

“I’ll just take my waffles and annoy Miller in the garage,” Octavia promises. When she’s back in the kitchen, she taps Bellamy on the chest and smiles before sneaking out through the door to the garage.

“She doesn’t understand the difference between inside and outside voices, sorry,” he offers and Clarke lets out a small laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “Um, are you, uh, hungry?”

“I actually need to get to work,” she says and his eyebrows knit together. “I’m a nurse,” she explains and he nods in understanding. “Thank you, though.”

“I’ll give you a ride back to your car, okay?”

He pushes himself away from the counter and she steps in front of him to stop him. He looks down at her and she tilts her head to the side. The look she’s giving him makes his gut twist, but he’s not sure if it’s in fear or excitement. When her hands touch his bare chest, he knows it’s excitement.

“Last night was exactly what I needed,” she tells him and he smiles. “Now that I’m actually fine, I still don’t know what this is or what we’re doing. I don’t do-“

“You don’t do this,” he finishes for her abruptly. “I know. It’s done, though, right? We did it. We’re fine?”

“I’ve never used the word fine so many times in a ten hour period,” she laughs, dropping her hands from his body. “But I am and if that last time we had sex was any indication, so are you.”

“I am,” he promises. “Come on, we should get dressed.”

They get dressed with their backs to each other. He puts on a pair of jeans and a sweater and when he turns around, she’s wearing the same dress she wore to the wedding and holding her heels in her hand. He remembers why they ended up at his place. The dress and her smile, the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him or to give his blunt, assholeiness right back to him. He liked— _likes_ —that about her. It’s almost enough to make him forget that he hates relationships and how they ruin everybody they touch.

“Ready?” He asks instead of climbing over the bed and kissing her like he really wants to. She nods and follows him through the house, into the garage, past his sister and his roommate, and into the driveway where his car is parked.

He can hear Miller ask Octavia about Clarke and the surprise in his voice when he asks if she _really stayed the night_. When they’re in his car, he looks at Clarke to find her looking into the garage and he follows her line of sight to see Octavia smiling at them and Miller staring at him, bewildered.

“Is he dating anyone?” She asks Bellamy and he actually hurts his neck looking at her too quickly. “Jeez, I’m not asking for me. He looks familiar.”

“He doesn’t talk about it.”

“Do you ask him about it?” She asks and he knows, just from her tone and the ten hours they’ve spent together, that she already knows the answer.

Instead of answering, he just smirks and backs out of his driveway. As they drive back toward where the reception was held, he thinks about what happens when they get there. He’s so used to girls leaving before any of this is even possible. And he’s pretty sure Clarke’s used to setting some ongoing, no strings attached hookups before parting ways. He was never good at that. He was a relationship guy until he and Roma broke up. And, in the last year and a half, he’s become a one and done kind of guy. All or nothing. That’s what his sister always says.

Her car is the only one left in the lot at 10:30 on a Sunday morning, so he pulls up right next to it and she immediately opens the door. It feels like a punch to the gut—for reasons he’s not willing to admit to—until she closes it again and turns toward him.

“It’s done, right?” She asks and he just stares at her, trying to figure out what she’s getting at. All or nothing. _That’s_ Bellamy Blake. It does not seem to be Clarke… something.

“Right,” he decides and she nods slowly before a small, unconvincing smile appears on her face. “It was fun.”

“But now it’s done,” she says quickly. “See you around, Bellamy.”

“See you around, Clarke.”

He waits until she drives away to go home again. Octavia’s car is gone, but Miller is still tinkering around in the garage. Bellamy has no doubt he’s waiting for him, too curious to even go inside the house. Bellamy parks his car on the other side of the garage and Miller turns around as he gets out.

“So…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he answers, walking inside. Miller follows him, though, just like Bellamy knew he would.

“I know, but I’m going to make you anyway,” he insists and Bellamy sighs, remembering what Clarke asked him before they left his house.

“Are you dating anyone?” He asks and Miller stops in his tracks.

“Just because I like dudes doesn’t mean I like you, Bell,” he says with a smirk and Bellamy shoves him before falling onto the couch. “But yes, I am.”

“We don’t talk about that shit.”

“We are now,” Miller reminds him as he sits in the chair across from him. “So, spill. Who was that? _What_ was that?”

“She was at Roma’s wedding. We both needed to move on from our exes, so we did,” Bellamy explains and Miller nods.

“You like her?”

“You and I both know that I don’t like anyone,” Bellamy reminds him and Miller laughs, leaning back.

“She stayed, though,” Miller points out and they both stew in that realization for a minute. Bellamy, especially. Clarke stayed. He woke up with her in his arms. It felt like more than a onetime thing. He liked having sex with her. He liked talking to her. He liked her. And it was a disaster. “First time that’s happened since Roma dumped you. Hell, _she_ barely stayed over.”

“It is what it is, Miller,” he tells him and he just rolls his eyes. He knows Bellamy better than almost anyone. Bellamy really hates it sometimes.

“Fine,” he says, accepting Bellamy’s stupidity. “Then, back to the guy I’m seeing. I need backup tonight. I asked your sister because she’s much better with people than you are, but you are my best friend, I guess. Two Blakes are better than one.”

“What’s tonight?” Bellamy asks, sitting up and Miller leans his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands over his face.

“He’s having a birthday thing at some bar,” he explains. “He wants me there obviously, and he said to bring some friends because it’s about time we start acting like a real couple if we’re going to be one.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises and Miller lets out a sigh of relief.

\--

It’s a nice bar, nicer than most of the ones Bellamy frequents, and he is very impressed with the number of taps lining the bar. Before they go to find Miller’s boyfriend, Bellamy leads them and Octavia to the bar and pays for their drinks. “Ready?” He asks his best friend and he nods, standing up taller. Bellamy claps him on the back once before Miller leads them into the other side of the bar.

Octavia is talking next to him as they walk, on and on about the new guy she’s seeing. Bellamy hasn’t met him yet, but Octavia insists he’ll _love_ him. He’s not so sure. He’s never felt that way about his little sister’s boyfriends. At best, he’ll tolerate him. At worst, he’ll beat his ass.

Miller stops in front of a group of people—a kid with goggles on his head, a terrifyingly beautiful girl with a leg brace, a bro with the beginnings of a mustache, and two more people hugging. He guesses the guy is Miller’s new boyfriend, Monty. He’s not sure who the blonde is until they pull out of their hug and he notices it’s Clarke.

“Fuck,” he mutters and Octavia bounces on her toes next to him.

“Bell, it’s your girlfriend,” she whispers and he glares at her, completely unamused. “Oh my god,” she laughs. “You fucked your best friend’s new boyfriend’s friend. It’s, like, fate.”

“I will murder you,” he promises and she laughs and moves toward Clarke, finally catching her attention.

She obviously notices Octavia before she does Bellamy, but as soon as she does see her and puts two and two together, Miller is tugging on his elbow.

“Bellamy,” he says and he looks from Clarke’s stunned face to Miller’s slightly annoyed face. “This is Monty.”

“Hey,” he says as easily as he can. “Bellamy. Nice to meet you. Happy birthday.”

“I’m really glad you could come,” he tells him and Bellamy can tell he means it. He’s _nice_ which is a good change for their group. But he’s not so sure how long their group will be a part of Monty’s, not after they all figure out the connection between him and Clarke. “These are my friends, Jasper, Raven, Wick, and Clarke. A few more people should be showing up.”

“Great,” he smiles tightly and Monty turns back to Miller while Bellamy has no idea what to do. His sister is still talking to Clarke and Raven is watching him with a knowing look. _She_ works with Roma. She’s Clarke’s best friend. It all makes sense.

Eventually, Clarke sits next to him at the bar where he decided to sit alone. He looks at her and then back at the group to see Octavia fitting in great, just like she always does. “She adores you,” Clarke tells him and he looks back at her and shrugs. “She’s _really_ trying to sell you to me.”

“Ignore her,” he insists and she laughs. “Did you know who Miller was when you asked?”

He’s not sure why he wants to know, but he does. Was she expecting them to eventually meet up again? To relive the night before?

“No,” she tells him and, for some reason, he believes her. “Monty’s been very hush about the whole thing with Miller. I saw him briefly while he snuck out of Monty’s house one morning. He looked familiar this morning; that’s it.”

“You stayed,” he says out of nowhere and she looks at him like he’s crazy. Which, he very well could be. “Last night, you stayed. Miller and Octavia think that means something.”

“I stayed,” she admitted and he nudged her knee with his own. “I shouldn’t have. I knew what you wanted out of last night.”

“Well,” he laughs and she rests her cheek on her open palm to look up at him. She’s waiting for him. “I didn’t know what I wanted out of last night. I still don’t.”

“I think you do, but you don’t want to admit it,” she says and it’s a challenge. He crosses his arms on the bar and rests his head on top of them, looking at her still. She smiles and does the same so they’re eye to eye.

“Dating leads to relationships,” he tells her and she nods awkwardly against her arms. “Relationships end in fiery crashes.”

“Which is why I avoid them,” she reminds him. “Lexa got close. I had to end it before it went any further. That had more to do with Lexa than a relationship with Lexa, though. She’s not it for me and she was expecting to be.”

“I’m not,” he promises her and she smiles. “I know how relationships end. You know how they end.”

“So we’ve got nothing to lose, right? We do this until we don’t want to anymore and we walk away unscathed.”

“It’s like an experiment that is bound to explode in our faces and burn all of our facial hair off,” he laughs, but they both sense his agreement behind the words.

“Jasper specializes in those,” she tells him and he laughs. They both sit up and turn their stools toward each other, knees fitting easily together. “What do you think?”

“I think we should get another round, head back to my place later, and maybe get some breakfast tomorrow before I have to go into work.”

“I think that sounds like a great start.”

Bellamy smiles, biting his lip quickly before leaning forward and capturing her lips with his. Her fingers tangle in his hair and his hand moves slowly up her thigh until it reaches her waist.

“This should be interesting,” he tells her and she rolls her eyes before kissing him quiet.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m about to sound like a fucking asshole,” he warns her, but she just smiles. “I know, I am an asshole, but really.”
> 
> “Oh my god, just ask the question. I’m hungry.”
> 
> “You eat more than anyone I’ve ever met,” he tells her and she just rolls her eyes because, well, he’s not wrong, but she is hungry. “What is your last name? Because I know you know my last name since you’re always flicking through my mail, but you have yet to disclose yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still complicated, still messy. More fun to come.

Clarke wakes up with a familiar weight on top of her. It’s become so familiar in the past eight days that she settles even further into the mattress and flattens her feet on the mattress so Bellamy is cradled between her legs.

“Wait,” she says, opening her eyes and dropping her legs again. “What are you doing? Did I fall asleep during sex again?”

“What? No,” he practically yells in her face. “You’ve fallen asleep during sex? That’s a huge blow to my fucking ego,” he sighs, rolling off of her all the way to the other side of his bed.

“Bellamy,” she laughs, following him and wrapping herself around his back. “Did I, or did I not, fall asleep in the middle of sex?” She asks and he tries to roll away from her even more, but she tightens her hold on him.

“Again? No,” he tells her and she lets go of him and he practically jumps out of bed. “When did you fall asleep the first time? I thought I was doing good work,” he says, gesturing between them and she can’t help but laugh. Bellamy, however, is not amused.

“If it didn’t just happen, then it’s never happened with you,” she promises, but he doesn’t look all that convinced. “Consider your ego fully intact, god help us all. Now, why were you on top of me in the first place?”

“I needed to ask you a question,” he says. “And, apparently, that’s the only way to wake you up.”

“What’s the question, Bell?” She asks, getting out of bed to pull on her clothes. When she pulls her head through her shirt she sees a familiar look on Bellamy’s face. The look says she just crossed some invisible line that is making things between them all too real, but it disappears quickly. “Bell?” She repeats it because she knows that’s what caused the look in the first place and, plus, she wants to know what the question was that prompted him to mount her before she was even conscious.

He looks at her, like he’s in some kind of pain, and runs his hand through his already messy curls, tugging on them gently before crossing his arms over his chest. She steps closer to him and his hand immediately—instinctively—reaches for her and pulls her even closer.

“I’m about to sound like a fucking asshole,” he warns her, but she just smiles. “I know, I _am_ an asshole, but really.”

“Oh my god, just ask the question. I’m hungry.”

“You eat more than anyone I’ve ever met,” he tells her and she just rolls her eyes because, well, he’s not wrong, but she _is_ hungry. “What is your last name? Because I know you know _my_ last name since you’re always flicking through my mail, but you have yet to disclose yours.”

Clarke actually laughs to the point where she’s hiding her face against his bare chest. His hands fall from her completely and she pulls back to put a hand on his shoulder and hold out the other one. “Clarke _Griffin_. Nice to finally meet you, Bellamy _Blake_.”

He shakes her hand quickly, but uses it mostly to pull her against his body and kiss her hard and quick. “The pleasure’s all mine, Nurse Griffin,” he whispers against her lips. She pushes forward to kiss him again because it’s not something they do all that often out of bed. She loves it. Bellamy is many things, but her favorite thing about him is how he kisses her like it’s the most important part of his day. “I’ve got to hop in the shower before work. I’ll meet you out there,” he tells her and then he runs the tip of his nose across her jaw before pressing a kiss to her forehead and disappearing into his bathroom.

She watches him go and runs both of her hands through her hair. She _likes_ him, like, way more than she was ever expecting to when she agreed to their arrangement the week before. She’s stayed at his house nearly every night since Roma’s wedding and they get along so easily that she’s getting really comfortable—in his house and his life. They get along with each other’s friends, they both equally like going out and getting a little too drunk and, also, staying in and watching documentaries on Netflix. They both deny it to their very core, but secretly love to cuddle.

Whatever it is they’re doing, they’re doing it really well and that- well, frankly, that terrifies Clarke and she’s pretty sure, when he realizes it, it’ll terrify Bellamy. The two of them are like ticking time bombs when it comes to relationships and feelings. She knows she is and he’s not shy about talking about his failed relationships. It’s like he’s trying to warn her. And, really, it should scare her off even more, but she actually finds it pretty charming.

She finishes getting dressed after he starts his shower and walks out of his room to find Miller, Monty, _and_ Octavia in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine,” Monty calls and she smiles at him before walking up to hug him. He may be a slight man, but no one gives a hug like Monty.

“Morning, guys,” she says, still in Monty’s embrace. Octavia hands her a coffee and the four of them sit around the kitchen table. She curls around her coffee and watches Monty and Miller go through some morning routine they must just be getting used to. They trade cereal and milk, Miller pours them juice, Monty butters them toast. It’s adorable, really. Octavia is watching them, too, but she keeps looking at Clarke with this look of incredulousness, which makes sense. From what she’s gathered, relationships are new to Miller, too. But, from what she can tell, he’s pretty good at them.

Bellamy finds them all there, taking up every chair at his table and sighs. “O, what are you doing here?” He asks, ignoring everyone else on his way to the kitchen. On his way by, though, he runs his knuckles across Clarke’s back and she smiles up at him.

“The dining hall sucks,” she reminds him and he nods while he pours his coffee. “And your cereal tastes so much better than theirs.”

“Don’t you have class in, like, twenty minutes?” He asks walking back toward them. He steps in front of Clarke and raises his eyebrows until she sighs and stands up. He smiles and sits in her chair before pulling her onto his knee. It’s intimate.

Aside from her actually sitting on his lap, he basically ignores her, and goes back to glaring at his sister.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” she says, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Have a good day at school, honey,” Miller calls after her with a mouth full of cereal.

“Bite me, asshole,” she calls back before slamming the door shut behind her.

Clarke looks back at Bellamy who’s smiling into his coffee and gets up to sit in the chair Octavia left empty. “So,” Monty says, looking right at her and she looks at him expectantly. “Have people at work mentioned the fact that you’ve gone in wearing the same clothes as the day before like three times this week?”

Before answering, she narrows her eyes at him and glances quickly at Bellamy. He’s watching her with an adorably amused look on her face and she hates them both in that moment. “I’m a nurse,” she reminds Monty. “I go in with my coat on over my outfit, walk straight to the locker room, and put on the same scrubs as everyone else in my service. No one notices.”

“Not even your mom?” Miller asks. At that she closes her eyes and looks back at Bellamy. This time, he’s confused, but looking at her for an answer.

“Okay, well my mom noticed once,” she admits quietly and Monty and Miller laugh. Bellamy just sighs and leans toward her.

“You work with your mom?” He asks and from the corner of her eye, she sees Miller roll his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s kind of, uh, Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” she tells him and his eyes widen.

“And has she asked _why_ you’ve been wearing the same clothes?” He asks her slowly, like she’s a child being punished.

“Bellamy, she’s Chief of Medicine. She’s not an idiot; she knows what I’m doing and she doesn’t care to find out who it is I’m doing it with, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she promises. “I’ve got to go. Don’t want to raise anymore suspicion.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket from the living room. As she’s leaving, she hears Miller call Bellamy an ass and she smiles to herself. Just as she’s opening the door to her car, Bellamy opens his front door and chases after her. He cages her in with a hand on the roof of her car and another holding the door open.

“I’m an ass,” he says quietly. His voice is deeper than normal, which, honestly, is hard to believe.

“I’ve known that longer than I’ve known you,” she reminds him and he smiles sheepishly, leaning closer to her. His lips are warm and a little wet against her neck and her hands hold onto his waist.

“I’m actually trying _not_ to be one when it comes to you,” he admits and she hides her face in his neck and smiles. “But we both know I’m not good at that.”

“You’re not bad,” she promises and he pulls back to smile at her. “Listen, Bellamy,” she sighs, letting her hands fall from him as she steps back until she’s flush against her car. “We already know we suck at this, okay? I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to tell my mother I’m sleeping with someone I’m expecting to fail at being in a relationship with.”

He nods, but he looks a little torn, and she pushes onto her toes to kiss him quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to fail just yet, okay?”

“Yeah,” he smiles and she kisses him again. “It’s only been a week. We have plenty of time to run this into the ground.”

“Exactly,” she laughs and he drops his hands, stepping away from her and the car. “I’m working a double today. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he nods and she smiles and gets into her car.

\--

When Raven calls Clarke, her second shift is just ending. It’s nearly 2 am and all she wants to do is take a shower and get changed so she can go home. “Hello?” She answers, leaning against her locker.

“Your boyfriend sucks at trivia,” she says without any preamble.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, you were working and Jasper had a date, so Monty asked Miller and Bellamy to fill in tonight,” Raven explains. “And, I’m sorry, but your boyfriend is useless.”

“Okay, first off, stop calling him that,” Clarke tells her, running her free hand over her face. “Secondly, what was the theme?”

“Um, TV of the 80s and 90s,” she says and she can hear Bellamy swearing in the background. It makes her smile, picturing him there with her friends. Even if he does suck at trivia.

“ _Of course_ he sucked at that,” Clarke laughs. “He’s a history teacher. We’ll invite him back in a few weeks when they start asking about the Crimean War again.”

“Fine,” Raven sighs. “In a few weeks, we’ll invite your boyfriend back to play trivia,” she says it and Clarke can hear the evil smile on her face. “Also, he’s pretty drunk. You might need to come and pick him up.”

“He’s not my responsibility,” Clarke reminds her, pulling her clothes out of her locker. “Let Miller take him home.”

“Yeah,” Raven says, dragging it out and Clarke knows what’s coming. “He left with Monty about ten minutes ago. Bellamy stayed and Wick forced a couple of shots down his throat.”

“Oh my god. I’ll be there in 15 minutes, make sure Wick doesn’t force anymore shots on him, he has to work in the morning,” she tells her, already missing the shower she won’t be able to take.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Clarke changes before she’s able to take a shower and she _hates_ leaving the hospital still smelling like the hospital. She can’t wait to see Bellamy and let him know how pissed she is at him. He’s a history teacher _;_ he should not be getting drunk on a Monday night. It’s freezing when she gets outside and she pulls her jacket tighter around her body as she slips into her car, even more annoyed than before.

Picking Bellamy up from a night out with _her_ friends feels awfully relationshippy, but she also can’t ask her friends to drive him home and _his_ friend abandoned him, so, yeah, it makes sense she goes to get him. But, still… It’s all enough to make her want to run home and hide from him for the rest of her life.

The lights have just gone up in the bar when she gets there. Bellamy has his back to the door, but Wick is sitting across from him and waves as Clarke walks inside. She nods at him before walking up behind her- behind Bellamy. When she puts her hand on his shoulder, he startles and she can’t help the amused smile that slips onto her face.

“Clarke’s here,” he says to Wick, mildly confused. “Why are you here?”

“You’re drunk and you need to work in the morning and I think Raven has had enough of you for the night,” she tells him and he sighs before standing up. “I’m going to drop you off. Can you follow us in his car?” She asks Wick and he shakes his head with a laugh.

“Miller drove him,” Raven tells her when she walks up to the group. “And we’re taking a cab back to our place. Which I why I called you for him,” she explains and Clarke nods looking back at Bellamy. He doesn’t seem all that drunk, but he’s definitely not completely sober, either.

“Come on,” she says, taking his elbow. She starts to walk away and is only a little surprised when he moves her hand off his arm so he can hold it in his. “I’ll see you guys later. Get home safe, please.”

“Sorry!” Raven calls after her because she knows what things like Bellamy and hand holding and relationships do to Clarke, but it’s not as scary as she was initially expecting. She’s choosing not to believe it has anything to do with the way Bellamy’s thumb is brushing over her knuckles. She waves Raven off with her free hand and drags Bellamy from the bar to her car.

He looks _beat_. Since they’ve been sleeping together, he hasn’t stayed up—let alone out—past 11 on a school night and midnight during the weekends. She’s starting to think her friends who are, yes, a few years younger than him, might be a little too much for him to handle. He nearly curls into himself in her passenger seat, but lets his head fall to the side so he can look at her. She is not at all, not even a little bit, charmed by the way his freckles look in the moonlight or the way his stupid curls fall into his stupid face.

“What?” She asks him, starting up her car. She looks away from him and waits for him to speak, but he just reaches for her knee and squeezes it. She smiles at him quickly and pulls out of the parking lot, heading for his house. His hand remains on her leg, squeezing or petting her throughout the short ride. “You’re pretty affectionate when you’re drunk.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks. When she looks at him again, he’s staring out his window. “I’m always affectionate.”

“You’re a lunatic,” she promises and he just scoffs, but his hand doesn’t leave her leg. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says when she pulls into his driveway. Miller is lucky he went to Monty’s. Otherwise, she’d walk right inside and kick his ass for making her miss her shower.

“You’re not coming in?” He asks. He’s looking at her like she has two heads.

“Nope,” she answers, pursing her lips because… she smells and she worked a double and he’s working in the morning, which means she’d have to wake up when he did to go home.

“Seriously?”

“Bellamy,” she sighs and he finally takes his hand off of her. “I need to take a shower and sleep.”

“Believe it or not, Clarke, but I have both a shower _and_ a bed,” he reminds her and she rolls her eye.

“And a job to get to in the morning, unlike me,” she tells him, reaching across the car to put her hand to his cheek. “I have the day off and I’d really like to sleep in tomorrow.”

His eyes fall to her lips and she actively stops herself from leaning over to kiss him. When his eyes fall even further, he looks almost _hurt_.

“You can stay here in the morning,” he offers quietly, in that low rumble of a voice, and she drops her hand from his face. She wasn’t expecting that. He usually seems pretty happy to let her leave. “Miller’s at Monty’s, so he won’t bother you and Octavia has an early class, so she won’t be coming home anytime soon. Just come in, take a shower, and sleep here.”

“Bell…”

“Clarke…” he challenges and his drunk, puppy dog eyes are all too convincing.

“Don’t get used to this,” she warns him and he smiles like a damn kid on Christmas morning. “And I won’t either, because I know you’re drunk.”

“Or I just like having you around,” he offers and she shakes her head.

“You’re drunk,” she says again before pushing out of the car. He follows behind her and she steps aside to let him unlock the door.

Once in his room, he finds her a clean towel and refuses to let go of it until she kisses him, which, okay is adorable, but she also knows how gross she feels and smells. He shouldn’t want to kiss her, but he pulls her closer by the towel anyway and she can’t help but melt against him. She’s tired and he’s Bellamy and it’s all very _nice_.

“Okay,” she laughs, pulling the towel and her body away from him. “You better be asleep when I get back. You’re going to get eaten alive by tenth graders tomorrow if you’re not.”

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees and she nods before leaving him alone.

She takes a quick shower and actually finds comfort in the smell of Bellamy’s shampoo. It’s a deep and manly smell, but she likes it—mostly because she likes it on Bellamy and she desperately needs clean hair, but still. It’s comforting.

When she’s back in Bellamy’s room, he’s asleep—in his clothes _and_ shoes, on top of the covers. He’s a mess, but Clarke ignores it while she looks through his things for something to sleep in. Eventually, she’s dressed and she feels a little bad, so she pulls his shoes off and tosses them on the floor. She considers taking off the rest of his clothes, but doesn’t. Instead, she tugs the blankets out from underneath him and climbs under them before tossing them over his body, too.

It doesn’t take long for him to wrap himself around her body, finding her hand to tangle with his.

\--

Clarke wakes up just as Bellamy is leaving his bedroom, his shoes in hand so he doesn’t wake her. She’d find it very sweet if he didn’t wake her up already. She lets him slip away, thinking he made it out safely, and rolls over to his side of the bed. It’s still a little warm. He must have woken up no more than ten minutes ago, taken the fastest shower in the world, and gotten dressed. It was him tripping over something and landing on the bed on his way out that woke her up. Even though she just saw the back of his head, she _knows_ he’s feeling those shots he took with Wick the night before.

She’s only slightly ashamed at how she pulls his pillow against her chest and snuggles against it to try and fall back to sleep. Slightly ashamed is upgraded to mortified, though, when Bellamy sneaks back in to find her _smelling_ his pillow.

She practically tosses it off of the bed and rolls onto her back again to face him. That stupid smirk makes her wish she’d just pretended to be asleep. “Miss me already?” He asks and she narrows her eyes at him. _He_ made her stay and then woke her up, _he_ deserves all the ridicule in the world, not her.

“Shut up; you woke me up when you fell on the bed,” she tells him and he actually looks a little sorry. “Did you miss _me_? What are you doing back in here?”

“Forgot my wallet,” he says, picking it up off his dresser. He tucks it into his back pocket, but doesn’t move to leave. “Sorry about last night. I was a mess. It was weird.”

“You’re not going to make me drive home right now, are you?” She asks and he shakes his head. “Then, you’re forgiven.”

“It was weird,” he says again. He glances at his watch, but still doesn’t leave.

“Hey, we agreed to do this,” she reminds him and he nods, letting out a sigh. “Whatever it is, we want to do it, right? So, let’s just suck it up and do it, deal with the consequences later. I’m tired and you’re late. We’re fine.”

His smile is slow and he walks toward her to kiss her quickly. “I’m still sorry.”

“And you’re still forgiven,” she promises. He kisses her again and, then, he’s gone.

She was really hoping to avoid that conversation until she saw him later and she definitely wasn’t expecting him to come back into the room after he left, but she’s kind of… glad that he did. They did agree to do whatever it is they’re doing, so it’s best for them to stop hiding from it. It’s not just sex and they both knew that going into it. Yeah, they still have to figure out what it is, exactly, that they’re doing, but first they need to accept that it’s happening at all. That conversation was the beginning of that and it’s a good thing.

She waits until she’s sure he’s left and pulls his pillow against her chest again. Just because it’s been awhile since Clarke was in a relationship, doesn’t mean she doesn’t remember how good they can be. Having someone—and someone’s pillow—to hug in times of need is a comfort she has missed, a comfort she never let herself have with Lexa. Relationships and feelings are always messy and always will be, but she doesn’t want to be afraid of them anymore. She is, of course, still afraid of them, but at least she’s admitting she wants to get over it.

\--

Clarke _finally_ wakes up when she hears the front door fall shut and Octavia talking to somebody on the phone. She looks at the clock and is not the least bit surprised that she slept until 2 in the afternoon, not after an 18 hour shift and having to pick Bellamy up at the bar. She pulls herself out of his bed, thinks about making it for him, but chooses not to because she needs coffee.

Octavia is in the kitchen, off the phone now, but rifling through Bellamy and Miller’s fridge. She’d honestly think that she lived here too if she didn’t hear Bellamy throwing her out to go back to school all the time. Octavia jumps when she finally hears Clarke walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She asks with a smile and a hand on her hip. Clarke starts to think she made the wrong move leaving Bellamy’s room.

“I was sleeping until you showed up,” she says and Octavia looks _proud_ of her. It makes her smile. “Bellamy said you had class and wouldn’t be coming home. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“I had class this morning. But…”

She trails off and looks at the kitchen floor. Clarke waits for her to continue, leaning on the counter across from her to give her space and time.

“I wanted to talk to Bellamy about my boyfriend,” she says finally and Clarke nods, waiting for more. “I’ve been trying to for a few days, but someone is always around.”

“Want to talk to… me?” Clarke offers and Octavia considers her for a second before nodding. They make their way into the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Octavia doesn’t need any more prompting. Unlike her brother, she’s not afraid of sharing or, even, over-sharing.

Her boyfriend’s name is Lincoln. He’s Bellamy’s age, which makes him seven years older than Octavia, which means Bellamy is going to throw a fit. But she loves him and she wants Bellamy to love him too. She’s tried talking him up to her big brother for weeks, but Bellamy hasn’t shown any interest and it’s starting to piss Octavia off. Honestly, Clarke doesn’t blame her. She can clearly see how close the siblings are, so it makes sense Octavia wants to knee him in the groin every time he brushes the subject of Lincoln off.

When she’s finally done talking, Octavia lets out a deep breath and leans as far back on the couch as possible. “I really needed that,” she says, sitting up again. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Clarke shrugs. She didn’t actually _do_ anything, but she’s glad listening to her helped. She likes Octavia, which makes her thing with Bellamy all the better—and more complicated.

It’s then that he walks into the house, stopping short at the sight in front of him. He looks from Clarke to Octavia before rolling his eyes and tossing his coat onto the table.

“You do know that neither of you actually lives here, right?” He asks, pushing the sleeves of his sweater to the elbows.

“I’m out of here,” Clarke promises, smiling quickly at Octavia. “I’ve just got to get changed.”

She didn’t even realize she was still wearing his boxers and t-shirt, but Octavia didn’t mention it, so she doesn’t really care. Bellamy holds up a finger to his sister and follows Clarke into his room.

“Everything okay?” He asks and she nods, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to him. He catches it easily and watches her roam around his room, trying to remember where she left her clothes. She finds the pile on the chair in the corner and puts on her bra before pulling off his boxers and getting into her jeans.

He’s behind her before she can put on her shirt, his hands on her hips, turning her around to face him. “I think you might be the worst thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” he whispers in her ear, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. She smiles against his cheek and bites it quickly before back out of his reach.

“I _know_ you’re the worst thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” she assures him. He laughs as she puts her shirt on.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” he tells her and she shrugs. She doesn’t want to go, but she knows Octavia wants her brother to herself for a while. She _needs_ to go. “I just got back.”

“This is now the third day in a row I've worn this outfit,” she reminds him. “And if we want my mother off my back, I really should put on a different shirt, at least.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry,” she assures him with a pat on his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon.”

“Dinner tomorrow?” He asks her, quickly because he’s nervous. By now, she knows when he’s nervous. Nine whole days later and she can _read_ him. They’re screwed.

“I’ll meet you here after work?” She asks and he nods. With a smile and a kiss on his cheek, she leaves. It’s easier to leave when he’s not kissing her or touching her. She’d stay locked in that room with him for hours if she just let him kiss her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
>    
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Roma must have told Lexa about seeing us together,” she explains, reaching for her phone unsuccessfully. She ignores it and moves off of him, but stays lying next to him. “She just texted me to tell me I should be careful because, apparently, you’re the worst.”
> 
> “I am,” he promises her and she scoffs, nuzzling him and hitching her leg over his hips. “What else did she say?”
> 
> “Nothing, she asked to meet for lunch and told me that she’s moving back to DC in a few weeks,” she tells him and he nods, his chin rubbing against the crown of her head. “Did you finish your lesson plans?”
> 
> “I will tomorrow,” he says and she shakes her head, unimpressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took longer than a day for this update, but that's what you have to look forward to. Working fulltime and getting my master's degree doesn't leave as much time for writing as I'd like.

“Oh my god! Yes! Holy shit. Yes, yes, yes.”

“Clarke.”

“Bellamy—YES!”

There’s sweat dripping down her face. Her hair is a mess. Her boobs look amazing. He can’t be distracted, though. He has a goal to achieve and he’s  _so close_.

“Shit, shit,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yes, yes,” she yells, gripping his arm tightly.

“God damn it, Clarke,” he yells finally, throwing his controller on the floor as she jumps onto her feet, missing his by an inch.

“I’m sorry I’m so good at Mario Kart,” she tells him and he rolls his eyes because she is  _not_ sorry. He reaches for her hand to get her to stop jumping and tugs gently until she’s on top of him, straddling his lap.

“I fucking hate you,” he tells her, but she just smiles in return, leaning closer to him. “So much.”

“You should. That is now  _the fifth_ time I beat your ass,” she reminds him and he pushes her off his lap onto the cushions next to him. She laughs and kicks him in return, but there’s no bite behind it. “Okay,” she says, catching her breath. She was actually laughing—at him—that hard. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“You wake me up at 8 o’clock on a Saturday to have your way with me in bed, then _force_ me to play videogames with you, and now you’re telling me I have to take you to breakfast?” He asks and she nods, rolling off the couch. He sighs, but follows her. He’s been doing that a lot—whatever she wants him to, really. If anyone asks him, though, they’re just fucking around, having fun. He doesn’t actually have deep feelings for her. Hell, he barely knows her.

At least… that’s what he says when people ask him

“I have to go to work after, though, so do you want to take your own car?” She asks once they’re outside, but he shakes his head as Miller pulls into the driveway.

“I’ll have Miller bring me home,” he tells her and she looks utterly confused before he walks away and slips into his best friend’s car. “Follow Clarke. We’re going to breakfast.”

“Good morning, Miller,” his best friend says to himself, sighing, but pulling out of the driveway again. “How are you? Did you have a good night? I missed you; we should get breakfast with my girlfriend. Mind driving?”

“Don’t call her that,” is all Bellamy has to say and he smiles as he looks out the window because he _knows_ Miller is glaring at him. “How was your night, though? You’re home early.”

“Monty and Wick left for their engineering conference this morning,” he explains and Bellamy nods. He vaguely remembers them talking about it at dinner a few nights ago. “But, the night was good. We played Fallout with Jasper and Raven.”

“Thanks for the invite, asshole.”

“When I left, you and Clarke were having ridiculously loud sex,” Miller reminds him and he smiles. “At, like, 4 in the afternoon, mind you. I wasn’t going to interrupt that to invite you to play videogames.”

“That’s okay,” he insists with an easy shrug. “We stayed in and played videogames, too. Except, we were naked.”

“Please tell me this wasn’t on the couch that we share.”

“I wish I could,” Bellamy says, but then realizes that, “No, actually. I don’t. It was fucking awesome. You haven’t seen her naked, but it’s pretty much the best thing _I’ve_ ever seen.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m gay and have no interest in your naked girlfriend,” Miller says, pulling up next to Clarke’s car. “And before you can tell me not to call her that for the millionth time, just nut up and admit it. You’re in a relationship. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were falling for her.”

 “Fuck you,” Bellamy sighs before getting out to meet Clarke on the sidewalk. Miller is _still_ laughing when he joins them. Clarke looks at him like she’s about to ask what’s so funny, so Bellamy puts his hand on the small of her back and guides her inside—and away from Miller—before she can.

The three of them are waiting in line to be seated, reading their menus quietly. Bellamy doesn’t even notice that Clarke’s whole body is resting against his while they look over their shared menu. At least, not until Miller kicks his foot and he looks up to see Roma staring at them.

Clarke notices her at the same time and steps away from Bellamy. Why? He’s not sure. But he is sure he doesn’t want to think about it too long or too hard.

“I heard you two left my wedding together,” Roma says looking between them. Bellamy can only nod because he’s not really sure why she cares who he goes home with. “I’m surprised to see it’s still going on.”

Bellamy smiles at her and he knows it’s not a friendly smile. It’s not meant to be. She broke up with him and got married a year and a half later. She doesn’t get to judge him for moving on.

“You know what? So am I,” Clarke tells her, wrapping her arm through Bellamy’s. “But, here we are.”

Roma looks at him and he shrugs until Clarke pinches the underside of his arm and he nearly screeches. “Guess it’s all thanks to you,” he says as he pulls out of Clarke’s grasp. Her tiny, little fingers are her most dangerous weapon.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, smiling at him. “I wanted to thank you for giving Raven a plus one. Not only did I get to go home with Bellamy, but I also had some kickass filet mignon.”

“Well,” Roma says, lips pursed, arms crossed. “I was assuming she’d bring Kyle.”

“Who the fuck is Kyle?” Bellamy asks and Miller shakes his head next to him, trying not to laugh.

“Wick, man,” he explains and Bellamy nods.

“Thank god she didn’t,” he tells Roma. “Wick knows how to knock back those shots. You do not want to see what he’s capable of.”

“So, you’re just… Hanging out with all of them now? You never had any interest going out with me and Raven when we were together.”

Clarke looks at him and her cute, challenging smile that she was using on Roma is gone. She looks interested in what they’re talking about, which is fair. It’s true. Bellamy hated going out with Roma and her work friends, because it wasn’t just Raven, but a whole slew of boring people that even _Raven_ doesn’t like. Hell, Raven doesn’t even like Roma all that much.

“Looks like our table’s ready,” Miller says, breaking up the awkward tension. Bellamy silently thanks him and takes Clarke’s hand as they shove past Roma. Well, Clarke shoves past her and pulls Bellamy with her. Miller just chuckles and follows behind them to the booth.

He was expecting her to be leaving the restaurant, but she sits down on the other side of the restaurant across from her husband and he puts them both out of his mind as soon as Clarke puts her hand on his thigh. He looks at her and she smiles before nudging his head gently with her own. Its’ something she does in bed, when they’re just laying around. It’s one of his favorite Clarke qualities. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

“I need so many pancakes right now,” she tells the table and Miller nods in agreement. “Did Monty leave this morning?” She asks him and he nods again. “Damn it. I wanted some of his moonshine and Jasper doesn’t have the key to his secret stash.”

“Do I even want to know what you need moonshine for?” Bellamy asks her, genuinely horrified. Clarke by herself is kind of insane and out of control—to an endearing level, but still. Clarke with regular alcohol is Clarke on a whole other level. She’s louder, _thinks_ she’s funnier, and loves taking off her clothes. Clarke plus moonshine? He’s not so sure he’s ready for that.

“Nope,” she promises, all cute-like with this adorable lilt in her voice. God, he’s screwed. He’s charmed by her teasing him.

“Worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” he tells her for what must be the tenth time. She smiles and nuzzles him again.

“Right back at you,” she says just as the server comes for their order.

Clarke and Miller order their pancakes, hers with a side of eggs and bacon. Bellamy gets the French toast and they ask the server to just leave them the pot of coffee. Clarke’s going to be working all day and Bellamy should really work on his lesson plans. If he’s not hyped up on coffee, he’ll fall asleep as soon as he gets home.

“Have you talked to your sister yet?” Miller asks him out of nowhere and the way Clarke is looking at him makes him think they planned this.

“She’s the one not talking to me,” he reminds them and they both roll their eyes. He’s starting to think they’re spending too much time together, getting too comfortable with each other. He doesn’t like being ganged up on, especially from his best friend and his girl- the girl he’s sleeping with.

“Yeah, but you’re the asshole who freaked out on her for falling in love,” Clarke tells him and he pushes further toward the end of the booth so her hand falls from his leg. She does not look pleased. “I met him, you know. He’s literally the sweetest man in the world.”

“Yes, I know you met him and I’m still kind of pissed about it,” he says and she shrugs easily because, well, she thinks he has no reason to be upset. But she, basically, took Octavia’s side over his and last time he checked, she wasn’t sleeping with _Octavia_. She went out with Octavia after she told him about her 28 year old boyfriend because Octavia was upset and Lincoln met them out, but Bellamy was upset, too.

“I don’t want to fight about this,” she says and he sighs, looking at Miller for some kind of backup. “But I also know you don’t want to fight with your sister.”

“Seriously,” Miller agrees and Bellamy looks at him with as much rage in his eyes as he can muster. Miller doesn’t budge. He never does. “I haven’t met him, but your sister is still coming over all the time, it’s just when she knows you’re not there. And Christmas break is coming up. Would you rather she stayed with Lincoln or at her home with you?”

“I will deal with it,” he promises and slowly, tentatively, Clarke’s hand finds his leg again. He looks at it and then at her and she implores him with her eyes to forgive her or, at least, just move past it and he does. He doesn’t want to fight about it either. And, he has to admit, there’s not much to fight about—with Clarke or Octavia.

The food comes quickly and Clarke inhales hers because she’s got to get to work. He and Miller take their time because they’ve got no place to be and nothing that can’t wait a little while longer. When she’s done, she pushes against him and he nearly falls out of the booth before he’s able to stand and let her out. She’s pulling money out of her pocket, but he grabs her hand and shakes his head.

“Bellamy, stop,” she warns, but he just holds her hand tighter.

“You beat me five times, I think I deserve to pay for your mountain of food,” he reminds her and she hesitates before nodding. He lets go of her hand, but stares at her until she tucks the money back into her pocket.

“Thanks,” she says sheepishly. He leans into give her a kiss on the cheek, but before he’s able to, she grabs onto his face and brings him in for a real kiss. Like, a really _real_ kiss. He doesn’t react at first because, well, they’re in public and it’s not even 10 o’clock yet, but as soon as he feels her hand in his hair, he can’t help himself.

It’s a long, messy kiss in the middle of a diner on a Saturday morning, but it’s probably one of their best in the two weeks they’ve been seeing each other. She pulls back, breathless, and he just stares at her. He can hear Miller muttering something about indecency, but he doesn’t care because Clarke is _literally_ all he can see.

“What the fuck?” He asks and she smiles a little.

“We have an audience,” she tells him, nodding imperceptibly toward Roma’s table. He nods, a little disappointed there was an ulterior motive, but leans forward to kiss her again. Not because of Roma, but because he knows she won’t stop him and—sue him—he likes kissing her.

“You should go,” he tells her softly when he pulls back and she nods, still breathless. Her face is flushed and he can feel her chest moving against his with every breath and she’s still holding onto him. He’s the first to let her go and, slowly, she detaches herself from him, too.

“I’ll see you later,” she promises.

“Come by after work if you want.”

“I will.”

And then she’s gone and he’s still standing in the middle of the diner watching her leave. At least, until Miller coughs to get his attention and he slides back into the booth.

“That was some show,” he says and Bellamy flips him off before going back to his breakfast.

\--

The house is quiet with Miller gone at work and Octavia avoiding it while Bellamy’s home. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s alone anymore. He used to _love_ being alone.

When he was younger and his mom took Octavia to her dance classes and Bellamy got the house to himself, he used to pretend he lived alone. He’d make his own dinner, walk around in his boxers because his mother always yelled at him when he did it when she was home, and he’d watch whatever he wanted on TV. After his mother died and it was just him and Octavia, he was working a lot and finishing his degree, but when he had a morning to himself, after O left for high school, he reveled in the silence. He lived for those couple of hours a few times a week. And after Octavia begged him to let her live in the dorms instead of commuting from their house 45 minutes away, he had their house to himself for about three months before Miller moved into Bellamy’s old bedroom. He’d long since moved into his mom’s old room and Octavia left most of her things in her childhood room. But those three months when he was completely alone? Those were some of the most productive, least stressful months of his life.

Now, he’s gotten used to having his best friend and his little sister coming and going as they please. It’s gotten even busier since he and Clarke started sleeping together. She’s around a lot, even when he isn’t now because, apparently, their entire lives have started melding together. It doesn’t help that one of her best friends is dating his best friend/roommate. And it’s not a bad thing. He obviously likes having her around and he doesn’t even mind having Monty around.

And he doesn’t know _what_ to do when none of them are around. He feels hopeless and a dependent and he’s not crazy about feeling like that. But as soon Clarke walks through his front door, he stops caring and sits up from where he was laying on the couch watching television with a dopey smile on his face.

She drops her bag and coat on the floor near his door and walks toward him until she’s able to roll over the top of the couch and land on top of him. He chokes out a laugh and she moves further up his body to hide her face against his neck.

He rubs his hand down her back and she sighs contentedly and kisses him lightly on the neck before pulling back to look down at him. She’s smiling, but she looks drained. Her hair is wet and in a loose braid, cold where it hangs over her should and against his chest.

“Rough day? He asks and she nods. “It’s late. Did you eat?”

“You love taking care of people, don’t you?” She asks him with a teasing tone.

“I’m just used to it, I guess,” he tells her honestly and she nods solemnly. They don’t know much about each other’s pasts, but he’s sure she knows enough, including that even when his mom was alive, he was taking care of Octavia so she could work two or three jobs to pay off their house and keep them fed. She sees the way he worries about Miller when he’s late coming home from work. She’s seen him force water and food down Jasper’s throat after drinking too much twice already. She’s not blind and he’s not proud enough to pretend she’s wrong.

“I did eat,” she tells him. “Thank you.”

Before he can say anything else to her, he feels her phone vibrate in her front pocket and she worms her hand between them to pull it out and read it. Almost immediately, she starts laughing and he looks up at her like he’s crazy because she’s still laughing and still reading whatever novel-length text was sent to her.

“Oh my god,” she says, hitting him lightly against his chest as the phone falls between their bodies and the back of the couch.

“What?”

“Roma must have told Lexa about seeing us together,” she explains, reaching for her phone unsuccessfully. She ignores it and moves off of him, but stays lying next to him. “She just texted me to tell me I should be careful because, apparently, you’re the worst.”

“I am,” he promises her and she scoffs, nuzzling him and hitching her leg over his hips. “What else did she say?”

“Nothing, she asked to meet for lunch and told me that she’s moving back to DC in a few weeks,” she tells him and he nods, his chin rubbing against the crown of her head. “Did you finish your lesson plans?”

“I will tomorrow,” he says and she shakes her head, unimpressed. He worked on them and he got a good amount done, but he needs to meet up with one of the English teachers about their joint final projects before he can finish them completely. Her phone vibrates from where it’s trapped and he sticks his hand that isn’t wrapped around Clarke into the abyss of his couch to claw it out. Without meaning to, he sees another text from Lexa. It’s just three question marks. “Here,” he says, putting in front of her face and she opens her eyes and smiles up at him before taking it from him. She puts it on the coffee table behind her without looking at it. For some reason, that makes him feel pretty damn good about himself.

“Can we just stay in and watch that Ken Burns Prohibition documentary?” She asks him and he has to kiss her. He literally can’t stop himself.

“That’s probably the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he tells her and she laughs loudly in his face.

“You’re such a nerd.”

\--

“Okay, so I will meet you for dinner tonight at 7, right?” Clarke asks as she’s packing up her bag in a rush. “Jasper and Raven are coming, too.”

“Wait, where are you going so fast? It’s Sunday morning and you literally just got out of the shower,” he says and she waves him off, tossing her purse over her shoulder. She’s looking around his room like she’s forgetting something and he whistles from bed to catch her attention. She looks at him, eyebrows raised in slight annoyance, and he tosses her phone to her.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’m going to meet Lexa for lunch and then I need to go see my mom. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’re going to lunch with _Lexa_?” He asks, getting out of bed as fast as possible and she stops rushing and looks at him. “Since when?”

“I told you she asked to meet me last night,” she reminds him and he just keeps looking at her with narrow eyes because her telling him Lexa asked is very different from her telling him she said yes. “She’s moving soon. I don’t want her to leave with us on bad terms. She was my friend before she was anything else.”

“She doesn’t seem like the _friend_ type of person,” he tells her. And she doesn’t. He’s met Lexa enough to know that she’s cold and robotic, which is pretty much the opposite of Clarke. He doesn’t understand—and never has—how the two of them were ever friends, let alone more than that.

“Well, she is. You just don’t know her,” she tells him and he rolls his eyes. She’s not swayed at all. “I’m late. I should go. Good luck with your lesson plan. I will see you at dinner.”

Clarke leaves and Bellamy stays behind to run his hand through his hair, tugging on it until he hears the front door close.

It’s not that he’s a jealous person, because he _isn’t._ Even if he was, he and Clarke haven’t determined their relationship yet, mostly because they’re avoiding even admitting they’re in a relationship. He is, however, very aware of the relationship Clarke had with Lexa. He remembers Roma talking about it—how into each other they were, especially Lexa, and how she thought they were it for each other. It shouldn’t bother him, though—Clarke going to lunch with Lxa—because she’s told him herself that Lexa wasn’t it for her. She doesn’t believe there even _is_ an it.

Sighing to himself, he gets dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt before going out to the living room. Miller’s there, watching the news, and he mutes the TV and looks at Bellamy as soon as he notices him. “Lunch with Lexa, hm?”

“How do you even know that?” Bellamy asks, falling back on the couch next to him.

“Before she ran out of here, she asked me to go to dinner and when I asked why she was running, she told me,” he explains and Bellamy nods. “You okay?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t care who she eats lunch with,” he says, trying to believe his own words.

“Well, you’re full of shit,” Miller tells him and Bellamy scoffs. He’s not full of shit at all, but he’s still exhausted from his morning in bed with Clarke. He just doesn’t have the energy to argue. “I just don’t understand why the two of you can’t admit that you’re together.”

“We _are_ together,” he says, but then shakes his head. “But not, like, _together_ together.”

 “That doesn’t make any sense,” Miller sighs. He has made it abundantly clear that whatever is going on with Bellamy and Clarke is exhausting him. He sighs a lot lately.

“It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” Bellamy reminds him. “It makes sense to us.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bellamy tells him without any heat behind his words. He glances at his watch and stands up. “I’ve got to go meet Echo. We want to hand out the final tomorrow. Are you going to come to dinner?”

“Yup,” Miller nods with his lips pursed. He’s got on his judging face and Bellamy raises his eyebrow, silently asking him what his deal is. “I can clearly tell you’re not very pleased that Clarke is going to lunch with her ex-girlfriend and-“

“They were never official,” Bellamy interrupts him and Miller rolls his eyes. Again.

“ _And_ here you are, going to meet your ex-girlfriend to work on a Sunday.”

“Okay,” Bellamy laughs, but it’s not funny. “Echo and I went on, like, three dates right before Roma and I got together. It never worked out and we work together. That’s what this is. That’s all it’s ever been. And Clarke can have lunch with whoever she wants.”

“And what if she _wants_ to have sex with someone else?”

That gives Bellamy some pause. He doesn’t want Clarke to be sleeping with anyone else, but they’ve never talked about it, so he couldn’t really be mad if she did. But…

“I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll meet you back here before dinner.”

“Got it.”

\--

When Bellamy pulls into his house after finalizing the project requirements with Echo, Octavia’s car is in the garage and Miller’s legs are hanging out from underneath it. He honestly doesn’t believe it. Octavia hasn’t spoken to him in almost a week. And she usually doesn’t cave. She fights.

“She’s in her room,” Miller calls out to him as he walks past him and he tosses a thank you over his shoulder.

He takes off his jacket slowly, listening for any sign to tell him what kind of mood Octavia is in. He’s got nothing, so he just decides to go to her room. The door is open and she’s sitting on her bed, playing on her phone.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against her doorframe. She looks up at him, but her face is stony and cold. She says nothing. “Miller finally fixing your car?”

She just looks back at her phone in response and he sighs, moving further into her room. “I’m told we should talk and that I’m an asshole.”

“That Clarke’s a smart girl,” she says monotonously—still not looking at him. “You should lock that down.”

“We’re fine the way we are, thanks,” he tells her and she scoffs. He’s really sick of people scoffing and sighing and doubting him.

“What do you want, Bellamy? We both know you’re an asshole. That’s not news.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly and Octavia puts her phone down slowly as she pushes herself to sit up. He sits at the end of the bed and she looks at him, waiting for more. “I still think this guy is too old for you and that you should be dating more age appropriate people, but if you want me to meet him, I will.”

“You know you’ll have to be nice to him, right?” She asks and he runs his hand over his face, lying across the foot of her bed. She pushes her toes into his ribs and he swats her away. “If you’re not, I _will_ castrate you.”

“Yeah,” he laughs and sits up, looking at his sister.

“Where were you?” She asks and he tells her. “Does Clarke know you were hanging out with another girl you’ve seen naked?”

“Clarke doesn’t care. Plus, Clarke had lunch with her ex-friend with benefits,” he tells her and her face falls a little. She moves so she’s sitting right next to him and leans her head on his shoulder. “What?”

“You really should lock her down,” she tells him and he sighs. “She’s good for you and you’re happy with her and she’s, like, the hottest girl you’ve brought around. Lock that shit _down_.”

“Thanks for your input.”

Octavia lifts her head and stands and he follows her out to the living room. He puts on the TV and she goes back to looking at her phone. And his mind drifts back to Clarke, like so often lately. If it was two years ago and he was a better person, he’d probably take Octavia’s advice and lock that shit down, but it isn’t and he’s not. No, he’s a coward and he likes having her around. If they change the nature of their relationship, it’ll ruin everything and in no time, she’ll be out of his life for good. Because _that_ is how relationships work.

“We need to talk, like, right now.”

Both Bellamy and Octavia look over the back of the couch to find Clarke looking at them. Miller is behind her, greasy and laughing.

“Oh, Octavia,” Clarke says, but she’s looking at Bellamy. “Bell, um,” she stops, looking at his sister and then behind her at Miller. “Can we talk somewhere else? Please?”

Bellamy can see Miller’s eyes shining with delight and amusement and he looks at his sister who nudges him with her knee and smiles. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her before looking back at Clarke. She looks like she’s going to combust, so he stands up quickly and nods down the hall toward his room. She nods and walks in front of him until they’re both inside his room and then she closes the door.

“I kissed her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know if you have to be sorry,” he tells her and she takes a deliberate step closer to him.
> 
> “Neither do I, but I am.”
> 
> He nods and looks away from her, over shoulder at his bedroom door, as if that’ll give him all the answers. Like that is what’s keeping them from moving forward or determining who and what they are to each other.
> 
> “I don’t want to kiss Lexa,” she tells him and he nods, still not looking at her. She takes another step closer, but he doesn’t budge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't make you guys wait any longer than a day, so here you go. Up next: Sunday Funday.
> 
> (I may or may not have just watched _You're the Worst_ 's season 1 Sunday Funday episode and gotten slightly inspired)

“You…” Bellamy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Clarke can see he’s processing this news and she’s about to interrupt him, to inform him of what really happened, but then he finally continues to talk. “You kissed her? You went to lunch with your ex- girlfriend and- and you kissed her? Okay. Yeah, okay – Well, no.”

“That came out wrong, Bellamy,” she says as soon as he goes back to thinking of what to say next. He’s usually so quick with his words and they almost always come out just as he wants them to. And if she were just _looking_ at him now, she’d think he was totally fine with what she said. He’s good at keeping his cool on the outside. But she’s not just watching him. She can hear the uncertainty in his voice and he has every right to be uncertain. They don’t know where they stand in each other’s lives. They avoid talking about it despite the fact they’ve been nearly inseparable for two weeks now. Because if they talk about it, they’re either going to be a couple or breakup. Neither of them are ready for either of those outcomes.

“How was it supposed to come out, Clarke?” He asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and _now_ she sees how upset he is. It actually makes her feel a little better, knowing he cares enough to be hurt by her actions—her very wrong, fucked up actions. But then she feels even more terrible because he cares about her and she fucked that up. And she cares about him, too.

“She kissed me,” she tells him in all honesty and he sighs. She can’t quite tell if it’s a frustrated sigh or a relieved sigh, so she continues. “She was jealous and I should have known that before agreeing to have lunch with her, but I honestly thought it was, like, a goodbye lunch. I didn’t think she _cared_ about me or you and me. And, so, when she kissed me, it took me by surprise and I didn’t stop her. And I’m…” She breathes, collapsing into herself a little—ashamed. “Sorry.”

From where she’s standing, with her head bowed toward the floor, she doesn’t see Bellamy’s reaction, but she does see his feet move toward her. Just slightly, barely at all. He breathes loud enough for her to hear him and she looks up at him. His face is more broken than she’s ever seen it and it makes her heart ache. Her fucking traitorous heart that started falling for this asshole the second he touched her.

In that moment, all she wants is to go back to the night they met officially, at Roma’s wedding, when he was ripping off her clothes against the end table in his living room. Or, hell, even to this morning when he praised her over and over while they had sex—with his hand making magic against her skin and his mouth leaving marks on her breasts. She wants to go back to knowing what they are to each other, even though they never have.

“I don’t know if you have to be sorry,” he tells her and she takes a deliberate step closer to him.

“Neither do I, but I am.”

He nods and looks away from her, over shoulder at his bedroom door, as if that’ll give him all the answers. Like that is what’s keeping them from moving forward or determining who and what they are to each other.

“I don’t want to kiss Lexa,” she tells him and he nods, still not looking at her. She takes another step closer, but he doesn’t budge. “And that scares the shit out of me, okay? I think I _hate_ how much I like you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Her heart is racing and her hands are shaking and Bellamy is finally looking at her again. There’s something new on his face, something she’s only glimpsed in the past. It’s not fleeting this time, though. It’s deep and it’s intimidating and it reminds her that she has a reason to be scared of what she’s feeling. Bellamy feels everything to an astronomical extent. If he likes her, he _likes_ her. If he hates her, she’s dead to him.

“Okay,” is all he says and Clarke’s face falls into confusion. He doesn’t even flinch, but she can no longer stand still. She’s fidgeting, looking at him, waiting for him to say more because he hasn’t said anything. Not really.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She laughs, but not because the situation is funny, because it’s utterly perplexing.

“In the past two days,” he breathes deeply, sitting on his bed. She sits next to him, but not, like, _right_ next to him. She leaves him some breathing room. “I’ve seen two women that I’ve had sex with—like, really good sex, mind you—and I felt nothing. And then you come into my house and tell me you kissed your ex-girlfriend and it infuriated me a little. That wasn’t supposed to happen either. And after you left for lunch, I even thought about the possibility that you might sleep with Lexa because we don’t have any rules or, even, a status for this shit show of a relationship, and I was fine. But, then you told me you kissed her and it was real and I was _not_ fine.”

“She’s not my ex-girlfriend, Bellamy,” she tells him and maybe it’s not the best thing for her to say because of the nature of their conversation and, also, their relationship as whole, but it’s still important for him to understand that truth. “And we were never willing to be that to each other. I never wanted it with her. I haven’t wanted it since Finn and I’ve been okay with that for four years, but I’m not so okay anymore. With you it’s, like, just not okay.”

“Who’s Finn?”

“Who’s the second girl you’ve seen that you’ve had _like, really good sex_ with?”

He looks like he wants to run now, like answering that question will be the end they’ve been so pathetically ready for. But, to be fair, she’s avoided the Finn topic so far and she’s kind of regretting bringing it up in the first place, but now she’s curious and fair’s fair.

“Finn’s my ex-boyfriend,” she tells him and he nods, waiting patiently—no doubt buying time before telling her what she wants to know. “I was the other woman, actually… To Raven. He and Raven were together since high school and he and I met in college. We dated for two years and then, junior year, Raven transferred as a surprise for his birthday. Apparently, he’d been asking her to do it since they graduated high school. We found out about each other pretty quickly and we both broke up with him, but he was my first love and, um, after that I kind of quit on love and feelings and all that shit. But I got to keep Raven, so I thought I was doing all right. Then, you fucking came along. Asshole.”

At that, Bellamy actually laughs and it makes her smile. It’s true. She was happy being alone and she genuinely was afraid of relationships because they all end—either in death or heartache, or both—but she went up to him at a wedding she wasn’t even invited to and everything changed.

“I work with Echo,” he tells her and she remembers suddenly that he had someone to tell her about, too. “We dated before Roma, like three times. We slept together once. It was good sex, but she’s nothing more than a co-worker. She never really was. She was just something to pass the time with until I found something real. And I did, like, right after,” he admits and she cringes because _Roma_ was real for him. And just two weeks ago, he was still upset about their breakup—enough to want to ruin her wedding.  “Although, in hindsight, it wasn’t real. I was just her toy and she was just an excuse for me to grow up. So much for that.”

“So, what now?”

“Um, well,” he lets out a deep, cleansing breath. At least it sounds cleansing, so she does the same and he smiles again. “Now you stop kissing people you’ve fucked in the past and I, uh, continue to not kiss people I’ve fucked in the past.”

Clarke laughs out loud. The situation is ridiculous. She can’t believe Lexa kissed her like she thought they’d go back to her place for a mid-day romp fest. As soon as she tried to slip her the tongue, Clarke came to her senses and drove straight to Bellamy’s. She actually totally ditched the plans she had with her mom, which is something she’ll have to deal with eventually, but she’s just glad she’s dealing with Bellamy now. That’s what matters.

“How about no more kissing other people at all? Whether we’ve fucked them or not?” She asks and he nods slowly. It’s the first real step in becoming something real.

“So, what? We’re exclusive now?” He asks and she swallows before nodding. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” she laughs again. “ _Fuck_.”

\--

Dinner with their friends is normal. And Clarke is happy that Bellamy and Octavia are speaking again so she could join them. Ever since she told Clarke about Lincoln, they’ve been becoming friends. Like, real friends—the kind she’s sure she’ll keep on some level even if she and Bellamy do go up in flames like they’re expecting to.

Raven keeps asking Clarke if she and Bellamy are okay whenever she thinks no one can hear her, though. Apparently, the two of them are acting like they barely know each other. And Clarke can feel it, too. He’s not mad at her and he’s not being rude to her. She’s not trying to make anything up to him or being overly affectionate as a way to apologize. They’re kind of just _being_. He’s focusing on his sister, probably because they haven’t spoken in a week. She’s listening to Jasper because she feels like with her and Bellamy being around Miller and Monty so much, she hasn’t paid him as much attention as usual. And she misses him a little. So, she and Bellamy aren’t all over each other, but they so rarely are, and they’re not ignoring each other, either.

It’s fine. Really.

“I’m not going to be able to finish your car until tomorrow morning,” Miller tells Octavia as they’re walking to Clarke’s car from the restaurant. “Stay the night and I’ll have it done in time to get you to your first class.”

Clarke let’s Raven pull her aside and tosses her keys to Bellamy so he, Octavia, and Miller don’t have to freeze outside while she talks to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Dude,” Raven says, shoving her hands in her pockets to shield them from the cold. “What is going on with you and Bellamy? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I’ve seen you two together and it’s never looked like this.”

“I had lunch with Lexa,” she tells her and Raven just shrugs like the nothing it _should_ be. “And she kissed me and I didn’t stop her, so I left her there and went right to Bellamy’s to tell him.”

“Holy shit,” Raven says, but then shakes it off. “Wait, I thought you weren’t, like, actually together. Was he mad?”

“I mean, he wasn’t _pleased_ ,” Clarke explains and Raven scoffs. “And, so, we talked about our feelings and fucking Finn and how he broke me, and now we’re not allowed to kiss anyone else.”

“Whoa,” Raven actually falls back a step. “You had the exclusivity talk. That’s very big for you.”

“You’re fucking telling me,” she laughs. “I think that’s why we’re acting so weird, you know? I don’t know how to do exclusive and I don’t know if he does.”

“Exclusivity is in your bones, Clarke. Finn didn’t take that from you just because he can’t keep his pants on,” Raven tells her and she smiles. “And from everything I’ve heard and seen from Bellamy, that kid breathes exclusivity.”

Clarke sighs because she assumes the same thing, but still, it’s real now and it’s scarier than ever. She’s going to keep falling for him until he’s all she can see and then something is going to happen and they’re going to end up hating each other and everything that ever made them happy.

“Don’t let it freak you out, okay?” Raven asks and Clarke shakes her head. It’s not okay. It’s already freaking her out. “Hey, Finn broke me, too. Remember? I ain’t scared of no ghost.”

“The ghost being…?”

“Life, relationships, lo-“

“Don’t even joke about that,” Clarke laughs before she’s able to finish the word.

“Go deal with your issues, Griffin. They’re not going to kill you and neither is Bellamy.”

“Since when are you so pro-Bellamy?”

“I’m not blind, you dipshit.”

They both laugh and Clarke hugs her. “Thanks, Raven. I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks and Raven nods. They go their separate ways and when Clarke slides into her car, Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” He asks and she nods quickly before pulling out and driving back to his place.

The four of them get out of the car together and walk inside quickly where it’s warm. Miller goes into his room without much fanfare, as usual, and Octavia crosses her arms and looks between Clarke and Bellamy were they’re standing in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you staring at, O?” Bellamy barks, taking off his coat and reaching for Clarke’s.

“It’s been a few months since I slept here, so I just want to make sure we’re all going to respect the people on the other side of our bedroom walls,” she says pointedly, looking right at her brother. He tosses both coats in his hands onto the table.

“Go to fucking bed,” he yells, pointing down the hall and she howls out a laugh, but does what she’s told.

“You just sounded like a sexy dad,” Clarke tells him and he laughs, flipping her off. That makes her laugh in return. It makes her feel like she felt that morning, like they aren’t in this awkward not mad/not fine state.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks and she shakes her head. She looks around his house, in all its lived in familiarity. She’s been there a lot lately. She practically lives there now and has been basically living out of the clothes she leaves in her purse.

“I should probably go,” she says, crossing her arms like they’ll protect her. “I don’t want to, like, fuck this up anymore than I have.”

“You don’t need to go, Clarke,” he tells her and he reaches for one of her hands and pulls her toward him. “I mean, since we’re not making out with anyone else we may as well make out with each other, right?”

She laughs again, putting her other hand against his chest and he smiles. “I am sorry,” she tells him and he shrugs. He looks almost shy. “About letting Lexa kiss me and making us deal with reality. I was actually kind of enjoying living in denial.”

“I probably should have made it happen earlier,” he admits and she tilts her head and moves her hand from his chest to his cheek. He leans into it and squeezes her other hand. “I’ve always kind of been… all or nothing, according to Octavia. And, I don’t know, I guess she’s not wrong.”

“All?” Clarke asks and she’s only a little ashamed at how breathless she sounds. She has not signed up for _all_. Not yet.

“Well, no. Not all,” he amends with an easy smile and it makes her feel lighter—and also slightly more ready for _all_. “But, you know? More than what we were. I needed something, I guess, more than I realized. Maybe we should have cut it all off earlier so we didn’t have to deal with this shit. It’s only going to get realer and harder the longer it goes on.”

“I’m not really ready to cut it all off,” she says and he nods into her hand. “We can deal with it if we have to.”

“If?” He asks and his smile grows to an almost giddy extent. She hates him. She really does.

“I can’t tell the future,” she reminds him and he turns his head to kiss her palm. “So, yes, Bellamy. _If.”_

He kisses her then, for the first time since they got out of bed. And she feels so badly—more than she would have ever imagined—that someone else has kissed her since. Clarke only wants to kiss Bellamy. Hell, as far as she’s concerned, she only wants to have lunch with Bellamy. And, like, Raven, Monty, Jasper, and Octavia. But mainly Bellamy.

\--

The next morning, Clarke wakes up alone and naked in Bellamy’s bed. The clock shows that he’s already left for work and she smiles because he left her there, without warning or being asked. It’s another step in the right direction. Or the direction that leads to a real, honest relationship.

Slowly, she climbs out of bed, glad her shift doesn’t start for another two hours. She actually needs to go in early, though, to deal with bailing on her mom yesterday, but still. She can take the morning slow and she can stop worrying about her and Bellamy.

After she’s dressed and she goes out to the kitchen, Octavia is sitting at the table while Miller is most likely finishing up fixing her car. She looks up at Clarke and stares her down and, honestly, Clarke is a little scared. She stops in her tracks and waits while Octavia _continues_ to stare at her.

“What did I do?” She finally asks and Octavia pats the seat next to her. Clarke cringes, but sits down.

“You did _not_ respect the person on the other side of that wall,” she says and Clarke’s eyes widen. “I know you guys went through something weird yesterday and-“

“Wait, how did you know that?” Clarke asks and now Octavia cringes. At least Clarke isn’t afraid of her anymore.

“I may not have respected the people on the other side of Bellamy’s bedroom door when you came home yesterday,” she admits quietly and Clarke’s heart starts racing because she knows how tight the Blakes are. You fuck with one of them, you fuck with both of them. “Don’t worry, I heard you _loud and clear_ last night, so I’m sure you’re fine now. Not to mention, you’re still here and he’s gone to work, so… Congrats on that.”

“We have moved past my mistake yesterday,” she confirms and Octavia smiles. “But I will not apologize for having loud, pleasurable sex with your brother in _his_ bedroom. Just like I don’t expect you to apologize for listening to our private conversation.”

“When I’m home for winter break, I expect a large pack of earplugs,” Octavia tells her and Clarke laughs, but nods her confirmation. “Anyway, I’m glad you guys are okay. Seriously.”

“Me too,” Clarke promises and Octavia smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday mornings are meant for cereal and coffee. They’re meant for staying in nothing but your boxers for as long as possible. They are meant for ignoring phone calls so you can make out on the couch like you’re in high school and taking advantage of the fact that your sister is at a friend’s house.
> 
> Sunday mornings are not meant for being attacked from behind just as you’re about to eat the cereal you were so looking forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is in the works. I think you'll enjoy it. I hope you enjoy this one first, though!

Sunday mornings are meant for cereal and coffee. They’re meant for staying in nothing but your boxers for as long as possible. They are meant for ignoring phone calls so you can make out on the couch like you’re in high school and taking advantage of the fact that your sister is at a friend’s house.

Sunday mornings are _not_ meant for being attacked from behind just as you’re about to eat the cereal you were so looking forward to.

“What the fuck?” He asks as he catches himself against the cabinet in front of him so his face doesn’t hit it. Clarke is wrapped around his back like a monkey and swats the cereal box out of his hand completely, making a mess all over the counters and floor. “Come on!”

“You can’t eat that,” is all she says, but she’s still hanging on his back, so he reaches around to hitch her up further so she’s not ruining his breakfast _and_ breaking his back.

“Why can’t I eat my cereal, exactly?” He asks and she squeezes all four limbs around him before dropping to her feet. Her hands are freezing when she puts them on his waist to turn him to face her. She’s smiling at him, her hair a mess on top of her head, and puts both arms around his neck before answering.

“We’re going to brunch,” she tells him and he clenches his hands into fists before putting them both low on her hips. Brunch is one of those things that pushes them over line into actual coupledom. But, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind it so much. After what happened the week before, with Clarke and Lexa, he’s liked knowing she’s only interested in seeing, kissing, and having sex with him. Because, if he’s being honest (which is so rare, admittedly) he’s only been interested in her since their first night together. Which he would never admit to her or anyone, though he’s sure everyone sees it. Miller makes fun of him every time they’re alone (which is also rare lately).

“Brunch?” He asks and she nods excitedly. She’s doing that thing where the tips of her fingers are massaging the nape of his neck just slightly and her whole being just makes him smile. “Since when do we go to brunch?”

“ _I_ go to Sunday brunch at least once a month,” she tells him and then he remembers that, _oh yeah_ , they’re only been seeing each other for three weeks. “And now you’re coming with us.”

“Who’s us?”

“Raven, Monty, and I always go. Sometimes, we have other people—like Jasper and our friends Harper and Monroe, maybe Maya. But this week, we decided to make it into a cou-“ she stops, her face turning red and her hands fall to his shoulders. He smiles again because she was about to say _it_. She was about to admit it. “Triple date… thing,” she finishes and he nods, biting his cheek to keep from laughing.

“So, Miller and Wick are going?” He clarifies and she nods again. Now the tips of her fingers are digging into his bare shoulders, dragging him into her. He shakes his head with a silent laugh before pressing a kiss to her lips. She sighs contentedly into it and runs her toe up the back of his calf because she knows what it does to him.

What it does, exactly, is leads them back into his bedroom with him on his knees and her hand _really_ tangled in his hair until she yells out his name and lets go to clench her thighs tighter around his head right before she goes boneless.

Once she’s calmed down and gained her strength back, she pulls him until he’s on top of her and he kisses her. She kisses back hard enough to roll them over so she’s on top of him. “So, how about I take care of you now and then we take a shower and meet our friends for brunch?” She asks and before he can answer, she slides to the floor on her knees.

\--

With his hand on the small of Clarke’s back, Bellamy guides her into the restaurant while they both look for their friends. The four of them are sitting around a table, looking at them with sheer disappointment. Bellamy drops his hand and Clarke rushes toward them making apologies for being late. Their shower wasn’t as innocent as Clarke originally intended it to be.

“Sorry,” Bellamy lies as soon as he sits down. Miller shakes his head and Raven stares him down until he shrugs and takes a sip of her orange juice. Except, nope, that’s a mimosa. “It’s one of _those_ kinds of brunches?” He asks, handing it back to her.

“It’s one of those kind of _days_ , my friend,” Wick warns him, but he doesn’t get it. He looks at Clarke for clarification and she’s smiling at him way too innocently to mean anything good.

“Did I not mention this a full day event?” She asks and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Buckle up, man,” Miller tells him and he gets anxious all of a sudden.

“I’m just confused,” he says so only Clarke can hear him. “How does brunch translate to a full day event?”

“Sunday Funday?”

“Sunday. Funday. Sunday. Funday,” Raven starts chanting and the rest of the table, save for Miller and Bellamy, join in.

“How did _you_ end up at Sunday Funday?” Bellamy asks his best friend while the other four continue chanting around them.

“I was promised brunch and near constant drinking,” he shrugs and Bellamy has to admit that does sound like an appealing way to spend a Sunday.

The chanting stops as soon as the server comes by to take drink orders from Clarke and Bellamy and food orders from the whole table. He doesn’t hesitate to order a tequila sunrise with his omelet and bacon. Once the server is gone, Clarke puts her hand on his cheek and turns his head to look at her.

“You don’t have to stay all day,” she tells him, but she doesn’t look like she means it. He knows if he really wanted to go, she’d be fine with it, but he thinks she actually wants him there. “I know you don’t want to. I mean, it’s why I tricked you in the first place.”

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks her and she falls silent, looking at him like he’s the most terrifying thing in the world. Which, to her, he just might be.

“Yes,” she admits quietly and he smiles before pressing a wet kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Then I’ll stay,” he promises and her smile is shy, but she’s _happy_. He can see it in her eyes, all over her face, really. “Since there’s near constant drinking involved, apparently.”

“Right,” she laughs—actually she _giggles_ —and it makes Bellamy smile again. “That’s the most important thing.”

“To me, yeah,” he lies and she pinches him on the thigh with a knowing smile before turning back toward the table.

He accepts his drink from the server and as soon as she’s gone, he feels someone kicking his shin. “Ow, what?” He asks Raven and she takes his drink from his hand to take a sip, like he did with hers.

“Are you going to be a grumpy old, man all day?” She asks him, sliding his drink back.

“Is that what you think of me? A grumpy, old man? I’m only like four years older than you,” he reminds her and she shrugs. He thinks she’s focusing more on the _grumpy_ part than the _old_ part, though. “If I get too grumpy, just keep kicking me.”

“Yeah, I’ll kick your ass right back to your house,” she promises and he nods in agreement.

As soon as the food comes, the table goes almost completely silent. Monty and Wick keep a steady flow of conversation, mostly about work, though, so no one else is too interested in it. Every so often, he hears Raven mutter, ”fucking engineers,” under her breath from her seat across from him and Clarke laughs to herself every single time. Bellamy has very little idea what they’re talking about, so he’s tending to take Raven’s side on the whole engineer vs. mechanics thing. Also, he’s just kind of terrified of Raven, so it’s best to always take her side.

The check is paid and Clarke is leaning almost all of her body weight against him, whining about how full she is. He doesn’t believe her. He has yet to see her full. But when she nuzzles against him, like she does, he presses a kiss to her temple and she sighs and clutches his hand. He’s starting to think she’s more tired than anything, but he has no doubt she’ll rally. It is Sunday Funday… apparently.

“Okay,” Monty announces once their outside. They’re huddled together, trying to keep warm and focused. Monty hands Raven a piece of paper that Wick tries to get a look at, but instead gets elbowed in the ribs. “Scavenger hunt time.”

“Yes!” Clarke cheers, as if she didn’t know it was coming, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. Now it’s his turn to get an elbow in the ribs. He winces and steps away from Clarke so she loses her balance and she glares at him, but her dirty look falls quickly into a laugh. “What are the teams?” She asks, taking his hand and pulling him so he’s flush against her side again.

“Me, Clarke, and Wick,” Monty says and Wick thrusts his fist in the air in celebration. “Obviously, that leaves Nate, Raven, and Bellamy on the other team.”

“Aw, he called you Nate,” Bellamy teases Miller and he stares at him blankly. No one calls Miller Nate except for his dad. And now Monty.

“Whoever gets pictures of the most items on their lists wins a big prize,” Raven explains, shooting daggers at Miller and Bellamy. She does _not_ want to lose. “We have two hours until we meet up at Clarke’s.”

After her announcement, they all couple up and Clarke turns toward him, staying as close as possible against his chest, probably to keep warm. “You know, I’ve never been to your place,” he reminds her and she nods. “Was this all some ruse to get me into your bed?”

“No,” she laughs, standing taller to kiss him. “I like your bed better. Why do you think I’m always there? Sure as shit isn’t for you.”

“You’re so charming,” he says sarcastically. “I’m so happy we’re not on the same team.”

“We’re going to murder you,” she threatens him, but she’s still leaning into his chest and her lips keep brushing his chin. There’s really no heat behind her words. “See-“

“Okay, Bellamy, kiss her one last time before she becomes the enemy,” Raven calls to him, tossing a small rock at the back of his head. He flips her off behind his back, but kisses Clarke like he’s told because… Duh.

“See you on the other side,” he says and she nods graciously before stepping away and taking Monty’s hand.

\--

Bellamy’s not sure how he ended up driving his team around, but here he is, driving to a florist to get a picture of a kissing ball because… Why not? Raven’s in the passenger seat, playing with his radio because she says the music on his phone is depressing, and Miller is in the back on his phone. As soon as he puts it on the seat next to him, though, he pokes Bellamy in the back of the head.

“So, are you two still pretending you’re not a couple?” He asks and Bellamy sighs. It is so far from the first time this question has come up in the past three weeks.

“Yeah, you two are actually the most couple-ly of us all,” Raven agrees and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing him. She sounds genuinely interested in his answer.

“We are what we are,” he shrugs, but he knows that won’t satisfy either of them.

“Which is boyfriend/girlfriend,” Raven says it slowly, like he’s a child and he needs to understand what exactly he’s doing wrong. “I mean, you guys are exclusive. You’re together all of the time. And now, you like can’t keep your hands or lips off of each other, even in public. You’re in a full-fledged relationship.”

He thinks about it, even though he doesn’t need to. He is almost always thinking about it. They are. He knows they are, but he also knows that she’s not thinking the same things he is. “Yup,” he says shortly, popping the _p_ at the end. From his periphery, he can see Raven looking back at Miller, but he doesn’t want to turn to see what her face looks like.

“I know her, though,” Raven continues and he looks in the mirror to find Miller already watching him. “So, I do get it. You’ve got to be really explicit with her, or she’ll let you go on like this forever.”

“What would be so wrong with that?” He asks, because even though they won’t admit it to each other, they _are_ in a relationship and that’s all he wants from her. It’s not like he wants her to move in and marry him. He just likes being with her. And he is, so he’s not sure he sees the problem.

“One of you is going to get hurt,” Miller says softly and he tries really hard not to tell them the sad truth, but he can’t stop himself.

“All of us are going to get hurt eventually,” he tells them and Miller rolls his eyes in the mirror. “It’s true,” he argues. “Relationships all come to a fiery, burning end whether we want them to or not. Even if Clarke and I are together for the rest of our lives, one of us has to die first. The other one is going to have to deal with that. _That’s_ life, man. That’s what happens.”

The car is silent after that and it’s not until he’s parking that Raven laughs. “Jesus, I thought _I_ was cynical.”

He has to laugh at that. He knows he is. It’s always been pointed out to him, especially when it comes to breakups. Even if he’s the one doing the dumping, each and every one of his girlfriends—since he was fourteen years old—has let him know how cynical he is. And that all started _long_ before his mother even died. It’s just who he is. He blames his father, mostly because he doesn’t know him and it’s much easier to blame him than himself.

In the florist, he’s not sure they’ll find a kissing ball. Thanksgiving isn’t for another week, but there’s already a whole Christmas plant set-up. He hates shit like that. He’s a firm believer in letting Thanksgiving stand on its own and letting Christmas season begin the day after it ends. Raven, the official photographer for their group, pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the ball and also the sign proving it is, in fact, a kissing ball.

“Okay, let’s go before they expect us to buy something,” Bellamy warns and Miller and Raven agree immediately. As soon as they get outside, though, Raven stops. “Jesus,” Bellamy mutters when he walks directly into her back.

“Abby, hi,” Raven says in response and Bellamy moves to her side to get a look at the woman in front of them. She’s small, but authoritative. A little scary, honestly.

“Hi, Raven,” she says and her face softens as soon as she’s smiling. “How are you?”

“Great,” she says and she must notice the woman looking at him and Miller on either side of her. “Sorry, these are my friends, Bellamy and Nate. Guys, this is Dr. Griffin. Clarke’s mom.”

She’s talking to them both, he knows, but she ends the sentence looking at him. And for some reason, he stiffens. He wants to play it off, like _of course_ he knows Clarke if he’s hanging out with Raven and that’s it. But he’s nervous and he has a feeling she’s good at picking up on that kind of thing.

“Nice to meet you,” Miller says quickly and Bellamy silently thanks him.

“You two know Clarke?” She asks, looking at Bellamy—probably because he hasn’t spoken yet.

“We sure do,” he says and both Miller and Raven look at him. _We sure do_? When has Bellamy ever said anything like that? At least he doesn’t say it sarcastically, like it would make him sound like he _knows_ her when she’s naked and moaning his name in pleasure.

“We actually have to go meet her and Monty,” Raven tells her. “But it was really nice to see you.”

“You’re coming for Thanksgiving, right?” Abby asks and Raven smiles brightly and nods. “Fantastic. It was nice to meet you, boys.”

“Nice to meet you,” they call after her as she walks past them and into the florist. Bellamy collapses into himself a bit and Raven rubs his shoulders until he’s able to stand up straight again. And when he is, Miller’s looking at him with his arms crossed and an asshole smile on his face.

“Don’t even think about saying anything,” Bellamy warns and both Miller and Raven fall into fits of laughter. He leaves them there on the sidewalk and gets into his car. He thinks about driving away and leaving them there, but he’s not the mean.

\--

They get to Clarke’s apartment with seconds to spare and she and the rest of her team are right behind them. Raven uses her key and pushes Miller and Bellamy into the apartment so she can close the door in their faces.

Bellamy can hear Clarke and Wick cursing outside the door and he smiles to himself as he takes a look around the apartment. It’s clean. His house is clean, of course, but it’s also _lived in_. Clarke’s apartment looks like the model they use to show to potential renters or buyers. She has some pictures on tables and on the walls, but they’re her and her parents, some older ones of her and a boy who looks at her like she hung the stars, and only one or two recent ones of her and the people he’s come to know as her friends.

Once she gets into her own house, Miller and Raven are sitting casually on the couch, but he’s still standing, still surveying and she greets him by jumping on his back. _Again._

“You’re here,” she says in his ear and he can immediately tell she’s been taking the drinking portion of Sunday Funday seriously. He smiles when she presses a wet kiss to his cheek before she lowers herself to the floor. He turns to look at her and she’s smiling at him as her hand works its way underneath his coat to fist in his t-shirt. “What do you think? Boring, right?”

“Sunday Funday?” He asks incredulously because, after running into Clarke’s mom, he and his team ended up having a great time. They’re almost on Clarke’s level of alcohol intake, but since he was driving, he limited himself to one beer at one of the stops they had to make for his list. He’s looking forward to getting on everyone else’s level.

“No, _my place_ ,” she laughs and he shrugs noncommittedly. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. And it’s not boring, either. It’s just not _Clarke_. “No, it is. I’ll show you the fun stuff later, though,” she promises with an exaggerated wiggle of her eyebrows. And then, she’s gone. She’s pushing past him to sit down next to Raven and they trade phones.

He sits on the armrest next to Miller and watches as the girls look through the pictures they each took, cross referencing with the lists each team got. Miller turns toward him and crooks his finger, so Bellamy leans closer.

“I think we won,” he tells him and Bellamy looks over at the list Raven has started crossing off. Out of the twenty things on the list, twelve or so are crossed off. Clarke’s list has only three left uncrossed.

“I think you’re right,” he says and Miller offers him a fist to bump. He accepts it with a smile and takes the flask that’s been burning a hole in his pocket all day. Miller takes out his and they cheers silently, tapping the metal together before taking generous sips.

“Motherfucker!” Clarke yells, tossing her pen and paper onto her floor, making the victory official and her house look more like someplace someone actually lives in. Bellamy laughs into his flask before taking down another sip.

“Yes!” Raven celebrates, leaning over to high five Miller and Bellamy. Monty, defeated and a little drunk, stands up and looks right at Raven, like she betrayed him, before looking at Miller the same way. The look fades quickly, though, and he starts looking at his boyfriend softly and admiringly. Bellamy knows they’re already in love and he honestly feels slightly guilty about what he said on the way to the florist. Maybe not _all_ relationships end in fiery crashes. Maybe theirs won’t.

“Raven, Clarke, and I agreed on the big prize for today’s scavenger hunt,” Monty says, crossing his arms, and sighs. “So, I’m sorry Wick, but you, Clarke, and I have lost out on three _amazing_ Christmas sweaters.”

Bellamy and Miller laugh and Bellamy watches as Clarke goes into her closet and pulls out three bags. She drops one into each of his team members’ laps, but holds his and sits in his lap instead. He laughs again and puts his arm around her waist. “I found them at this really amazing thrift store. They’re all different, but I’m pretty sure the same person made them,” she tells him, pulling his out of the bag. “Raven’s is going to be huge, because I had to make sure they were big enough to fit everyone, so I just got all the same size.”

“It’ll make the perfect dress for the Christmas party,” Raven says, pulling hers out, too.

Clarke hands Bellamy his and he looks it over. It’s definitely a sweater that would easily be considered an “Ugly Christmas Sweater,” but it’s still impressive—soft, colorful, and cheerful. “I can’t wait to wear this every time you’re at my house, just to shove it in your face.”

“You’re going to be wearing it a whole lot, then,” Miller says under his breath, but both Bellamy and Clarke hear it. He can see her neck and cheeks turn red. It’s not like they don’t _know_ she’s over a lot—all of the time—but, no one likes being called out. “When’s this Christmas party?” He asks at a normal volume and Bellamy leans his forehead against Clarke’s shoulder, exhausted.

“December 19, I think,” Monty says and Miller nods. “Right, Clarke?”

“Yes,” she confirms. She tangles her hand with the one Bellamy has wrapped around her. “My family thing is the 12th, so ours is the 19th,” she continues. “You can come, right? And Octavia?” She asks him quietly and he picks his head up to smile at her and nod. “Good,” she smiles before kissing his forehead.

\--

About an hour after everyone leaves Clarke’s apartment, about three hours after they all got there, she’s passed out on the couch. He continues looking through the living room, and carries on into the kitchen. It’s slightly more worn in, with a coffee mug in the sink and mail scattered on the counter. The hallway is short and dark, but he can see her bedroom through one door, messy as all hell. Clothes are everywhere, including one of his sweatshirts she must have stolen, and he smiles before taking a peek into the bathroom. It’s another pristine room. There’s one more room with the door closed that he doesn’t feel right about entering without her consent, so he walks back to the living room.

She’s still sleeping, taking up all three cushions of the couch. She’s draped over the edge with one hand touching the hardwood floor. She’s actually wearing his sweater, but it’s rucked up all around her waist because they made out pretty ferociously before they both got tired and fell asleep. And it got even worse when he woke up and wiggled out from underneath her. He can see the pale white of her back and he remembers their first night together, when his lips went over every inch of it.

Clarke stirs and looks around in front of her, probably looking for him, and she sighs when she doesn’t find him. “Hey,” he says from where he’s standing near her feet. She jumps a little and rolls onto her back, pulling the sweater down to where it hangs in the middle of her thighs.

“I thought you left,” she admits and her voice is hoarse from sleep. He knew he hated leaving her in the mornings before work for a reason. When he does that, he doesn’t get to hear that voice. But he’s not always the one to leave first; sometimes she works an early shift and he wakes up cold and alone.

“Nope,” he promises and she smiles, sitting up so he can sit with her. She leans against him as soon as he does and his arm works its way across her back, holding her there.

“I drank too much,” she whines and he laughs, leaning them back into the cushions and she throws her legs over his, nuzzling her face against his neck. Like a damn cat. He loves it.

“It’s only 7, you’ve got plenty of time to recover,” he tells her and he can feel her smile against his skin.

“I like you,” she admits quietly when she pulls her face away from him and he stiffens below her. He _knows_ she likes him. It’s the only reason they’re doing what they’re doing. If they didn’t like each other, it would have ended the night of Roma’s wedding.

“I like you, too,” he promises and she nods against his shoulder. She doesn’t stiffen like he did. No, she melts even further against him and he’s going to forget that she’s halfway between drunk and already hungover. “You haven’t shown me the fun part of the apartment,” he reminds her and she laughs.

“I lied,” she tells him. “There is no fun part. I live in a museum so my parents don’t judge me when they come over. All I have is my studio. I’ll show you that a little later, when I’m more awake. Your house is warm and inviting. Mine is cold and consuming. You should see my parents’, though. It’s a dungeon.”

“It just needs a little more _Clarke_ in it, that’s all,” he says and she nods again. “But, I’m not giving it any of the Clarke that’s left in my house. My house has never been good at sharing.”

“You like me,” she sings and he laughs, pulling her tighter against him so she’s in his lap and he can kiss her neck. “Thanks for powering through today. I knew you’d have fun.”

“I did have fun,” he promises and she turns her head to look at him. “You have that effect on me, I guess.”

“Yeah, right back at you, nerd,” she smiles and he shakes his head, laughing, before she can kiss him quiet. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Clarke says, pulling on the sleeve of Bellamy’s dress shirt. He turns his head slowly with a soft, questioning look. “Were you ever going to tell me you met my mom or were you just waiting for it to come up organically?”
> 
> “Your mom was far from my mind when you started sticking your tongue down my throat,” he shrugs with a devilish smile and she can feel her face redden a little.
> 
> “You met her mom?” Octavia asks with the appropriate amount of surprise and Bellamy flushes a little. It’s adorable.
> 
> “Twice,” Monty confirms excitedly. Obviously, Clarke told him immediately and Bellamy flushes even more.
> 
> “Holy shit,” Octavia laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short (too short, but still good I hope), but there's more to come. Up next: Thanksgiving.

The morning was a rush of limbs untangling, tripping over discarded boxers into the shower, and running out the door with a cold, dry bagel stuffed in Clarke’s mouth.  She had to work the early shift; she was due in at 5, but didn’t show up until 5:15. Now, it’s just past 7 and she’s on her way to a patient’s room and reaches into the pocket of her scrubs for her phone, but… It’s not there.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mutters, fisting the fabric of the empty pocket instead. She can live without her phone, obviously. She works with her mother and everyone else she knows and might need to contact knows where to find her. It’s just that she _wants_ her phone. After her rounds, she’ll be at the nurses’ station most of the day.

She shakes it off, puts on a real smile, and walks into her last patient’s room. She’s usually surrounded by her parents and a couple of aunts, uncles, and grandparents, but Clarke finds her alone, staring out the window.

“Hey, Charlotte,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she tells her and her voice is so hopeful, Clarke knows what’s coming next. “So, I can go home now, right?”

“Let me check you out,” Clarke says before standing up to do her standard tests. When she’s finished, she rests her stethoscope around her neck and sighs sadly. “Sorry, Sweetie. Your lungs don’t sound so great yet. The doctor will come in and see you once your parents are back.”

“I want to go home, Clarke,” she says and it’s not a whine, just a statement of fact. Clarke, of course, can’t blame her. Charlotte’s been in the hospital for a week; Clarke would want to go home, too.

“I’m doing the best I can to get you there,” she says and Charlotte nods. It makes Clarke smile because Charlotte is a fighter, but she knows what she has to do to get herself better and home where she wants to be.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You need anything, and I mean _anything_ at all, you call me, okay?”

“You’re on the desk again today, aren’t you?” Charlotte asks with her normal, bright smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clarke lies and Charlotte laughs as she leaves the room.

She’s only two steps out of the door when she runs into a hard chest. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly, reaching up to rub her forehead. She hasn’t had nearly enough coffee.

“Clarke.”

She finally looks to see who it is she ran into and smiles up at Bellamy’s stupid, gut wrenching smirk. “What are you doing here? You’re going to be late for work,” she says, glancing at her watch, though she’s stupidly happy to see him even though she ran out of his house less than three hours earlier.

“Echo’s covering my homeroom so I could drop off your phone,” he explains, pulling it out of his back pocket to hand to her. She’s so surprised and grateful that she doesn’t even hesitate to grab his face and kiss him, right there in the middle of the hallway.

From behind her, she hears Charlotte _oooh_ teasingly and she pushes Bellamy farther down the hall to finish the kiss. “Thank you,” she says finally and he shrugs one shoulder like it’s no big deal, but it is. He went out of his way to give it to her even though he’s going to be late and he hates hospitals with a burning passion.

Instead of thanking him again, she stands on her toes and kisses him again. His arms come around her and she frames his face in her hands, holding him against her for just a second longer. She is at work, after all and she works with her-

“Clarke,” her mother calls from behind her and she drops to her feet and pushes Bellamy away just a little. She doesn’t even bother trying to apologize to him with her eyes. They’re already screwed. “Bellamy?”

“You two know each other?” Clarke asks, looking from one to the other. Bellamy rubs his hand against his mouth and nods. “How?”

“Raven, Miller, and I ran into her on Sunday Funday,” he explains, holding out his clean hand to shake her mother’s outstretched one.

“Nice to see you again,” she says and Clarke thinks she might actually mean it. “I wasn’t aware you two knew each other _so well_.”

“Mom,” Clarke whines because she’s embarrassed and her mom loves embarrassing her, so it’s best to stop t early before it gets any further, but Bellamy chuckles next to her. Clarke sighs and squares her shoulders.  “Yes, mom. Bellamy is the person I’ve been seeing.”

“That’s great, Sweetie,” her mom says and Clarke smiles. She doesn’t _need_ her mother’s approval, but she sure as hell does like having it.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Griffin. Clarke,” Bellamy interrupts regretfully. “I should get to work.”

“Of course,” Clarke’s mother says, leveling a look at Clarke before slowly backing away. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Bellamy nods and Clarke turns to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers and he shrugs again, like it’s nothing _again_. And Clarke is sure he’s insane because that is her mother and they don’t even have a label for what they’re doing. Mothers should not be a part of it. Not yet. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” he promises, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. She watches him go for a second, but turns to find her mother standing much closer than she was expecting.

“So, that’s the new boyfriend?” She asks and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Yes,” she says because it’s easier and she doesn’t know how to explain her relationship with Bellamy to her mother. She doesn’t even know how to explain it to herself anymore.

“Cute,” she says with a shrug and Clarke cringes. She knows Bellamy is cute. It’s not a question. He _is_. But, still, as much as she likes her mother’s approval she doesn’t like it _that_ much.

“Back off. He’s mine,” Clarke threatens and Abby smiles like she thinks Bellamy is her future son in law. It makes Clarke cringe again, but more at herself than her mother.

“Fine,” Abby relents, holding up her hands in defense. “Tell me how Charlotte’s doing?”

\--

Clarke, Monty, and Octavia are sitting around Bellamy and Miller’s table when Bellamy walks through the garage door. He narrows his eyes before rolling them and walks in to hang his coat on the back of the empty seat at the head of the table. No one says anything, until he clasps his hand in front of him and looks at each of them.

“None of you live here,” he tells them and they all continue to stare at him because none of them see the point in his statement. “You know that, right?”

“It’s two days before Thanksgiving,” Octavia reminds him and he nods in understanding. “I’ll be here for the next five days.”

“I came with someone who lives here, but he left to pick up the takeout,” Monty explains and then the three of them turn to look at Clarke for her explanation.

“I didn’t want to go home and sit around alone waiting for you to invite me over, so I invited myself,”   she shrugs and he smiles because he knows she’s not wrong. If she wasn’t there, he’d be texting or calling within twenty minutes, whining that he’s bored and that Octavia won’t stop staring at her phone and that Monty and Miller are being disgustingly cute and that he needs backup.

“Okay,” he accepts their excuses and Clarke smiles at him.

“Oh, Clarke,” Octavia says suddenly, dropping her phone on the table with a thud. “Are you going to be here for Thanksgiving? Bell goes _big_.”

“O, she has a family,” Bellamy says quickly, but looks at her. “Not that you’re not welcome, but your mom asked Raven if she was going over for Thanksgiving, so I know you have plans.”

“I do,” she tells him sadly. She loves Thanksgiving. Hell, she loves Thanksgiving with her family and Raven and the Jahas, but she knows she’d like Thanksgiving at the Blakes. She knows Miller and Monty are going to be there, too. It sounds fun.

“No, you _have_ to come,” Octavia whines and all three people turn to look at her. Octavia’s not much of a whiner, so it takes them all a little by surprise, especially Bellamy.

“Octavia,” he chastises, which Clarke is sure is just as unusual.

Octavia looks a little… terrified. Clarke reaches across the table to grab her hand and her eyes snap from Bellamy to her. “What’s up?” She asks and Octavia takes her hand back—not unkindly, just to start braiding her hair like she does when she’s fidgety.

“Lincoln is coming for dessert and I need you there to keep him,” her eyes roll dramatically to her brother and he sighs. “In check.”

Clarke looks at Bellamy to see him watching her already and she smiles carefully at him. “I can be here for dessert,” she promises Octavia, though she’s still looking at Bellamy.

“No, you do not need to come to dessert,” he tells her and then looks at his sister. “I can behave myself, Octavia.”

“I wish I believed you, big brother,” she says, pursing her lips and Clarke puts a hand over her mouth to cover her smile. She doesn’t need Bellamy yelling at her, too. No one really believes Bellamy will be able to behave himself when it comes to Lincoln. He cares about Octavia too much to let any guy she brings home off the hook without a fight.

“Monty,” Bellamy says, changing the subject and ignoring both Clarke and Octavia. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe a snack before Miller brings your food?”

“No, thank you,” he says quietly because _poor Monty_. He did not sign up for a Blake showdown with a sprinkle of making Clarke uncomfortable. He just wanted some dinner and to see his friend while his boyfriend left to get food.

“So,” Clarke says, taking the heat off of her friend and pulling on the sleeve of Bellamy’s dress shirt. His tie is loosened around his neck and he looks so rumpled and handsome. Teacher Bellamy is one of her favorite Bellamys. He turns his head slowly with a soft, questioning look. “Were you ever going to tell me you met my mom or were you just waiting for it to come up organically?”

“Your mom was far from my mind when you started sticking your tongue down my throat,” he shrugs with a devilish smile and she can feel her face redden a little.

“You met her _mom_?” Octavia asks with the appropriate amount of surprise and Bellamy flushes a little. It’s adorable.

“Twice,” Monty confirms excitedly. Obviously, Clarke told him immediately and Bellamy flushes even more.

“Holy shit,” Octavia laughs delightedly. It makes Clarke’s heart flutter a little. She likes being accepted by Octavia. She’s never had to deal with siblings before, but she’s glad she’s winning this one over. Because Bellamy has already won her over, but she knows if Octavia wasn’t okay with it, he’d be even less excited to be in a relationship with her.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bellamy assures them, but he’s wrong.

“She thinks you’re cute,” Clarke informs him, running the tips of her fingers over the back of his, and he rolls his eyes.

“Obviously,” he says and she shoves his shoulder. Bellamy laughs and looks at her. His eyes are dancing with some emotion and it makes her smile easily in return.

Miller comes home carrying three bags full of food. “I’m glad I thought ahead to order enough for everyone,” he says, deadpan, and they all get up to help him unload and pile their plates with food. Before she’s able to do so, though, Bellamy grabs her hand and pulls her into the living room.

“What?” She asks, looking longingly over his shoulder at the food. He tugs on her hand and she drags her attention back to him.

“So, I’m your boyfriend?” He asks and she pulls her hand out of his. Her eyes knit together and she looks right at him, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Excuse me?” She asks. She puts a hand to her rapidly beating heart and swallows. Is she having a panic attack?

It makes him smile, how terrified she must look to him, but she just looks at him even harder. “That’s what you told your mom when she asked,” he shrugs and she lets out a deep breath.

“Well,” she sputters, crossing her arms over her chest now. “What the hell was I supposed to say? No? That you’re some dude I’ve been fucking regularly for a month with no intention of stopping anytime soon? That would go over _really_ well with Abby Griffin, let me tell you.”

“You’re getting _so_ worked up,” he laughs and she shoves him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble backward. He catches her hand though and pulls her hard against his chest. “It’s okay. I’ll be your boyfriend if that’s what you want,” he says quietly. His voice is so deep that her knees actually feel a little weak.

She searches his eyes and his face to see if he means it. There’s a slight smile on his lips and his eyes are fully intent on hers. She’s almost positive he can feel her heart beating against his chest.

“Okay,” she says slowly and his smile grows, almost shyly. Her own smile breaks out and she feels like a fucking teenager.

“Okay.”

“This is it, you know?” She asks and he nods. Of course he knows.

“Pain and suffering are staring us in the face,” he confirms and she nods, but she still can’t stop smiling.

“Can’t wait,” she tells him and he laughs before kissing her. “But I’m actually starving, so we’ll come back to this later.”

“Food comes before boyfriend,” he nods, stepping back from her. “I should have known.”

“Yeah, that’s never going to change,” she shrugs. When she walks by him, she pinches his butt and hears his sharp intake of breath.

Everyone else is already gathered around the table, ignoring them. So, after she’s got her plate and sits down at the table, she reaches for her purse under her chair and pulls out the pack of earplugs she bought for Octavia after she was threatened.

“You’re going to need these tonight,” she tells her, sliding them across the table and she can see Bellamy laughing in the kitchen. Octavia makes a gagging sound, but takes them quickly. Miller and Monty have no idea what is going on, but Clarke smiles at them anyway. Because she’s happy. Because she has a boyfriend. And that boyfriend is Bellamy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my god,” Octavia gags as soon as she sees them, but they both ignore her. “You guys are disgusting.”
> 
> “I’ll kick your ass,” Clarke threatens weakly, lifting her head off of Bellamy’s chest to glare at his sister.
> 
> Octavia joins them in the living room, curling her feet beneath her in the chair across from the couch, and just stares at them. “What?” He asks her and he can see Clarke’s eyes open again to look at her, too.
> 
> “I thought Clarke had to leave early today,” Octavia says and Clarke finally untangles herself from him.
> 
> “Fine, I’m leaving,” she says, standing up and he follows her. “I’ll be back at 4.”
> 
> “Thank you!” Octavia calls as Clarke drags Bellamy through the house and into the garage.
> 
> “Seriously, thanks for coming later,” he tells her and she shrugs like it means nothing.
> 
> “What are girlfriends for?” She asks with a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you then.”

Bellamy wakes up on Thanksgiving morning draped in a naked blonde. This is nothing new, but it does make getting out of bed to prepare the turkey all the more difficult. He actually considers just pulling her closer and getting a little more sleep. His bed is warm, Clarke is warm, and he would hate disturbing her. But, alas, he needs to get started or the schedule will get thrown off and people will start coming for dessert while they’re all still eating turkey.

There used to never be a schedule. He’d just cook for him and Octavia and then, when Miller stopped flying home, for him whenever he wanted. If anyone else came over, they dealt with it without worrying. But, he’s a 28 year old man with a girlfriend serious enough to even call a girlfriend. His sister’s 28 year old boyfriend is coming for dessert. Monty and Jasper are joining them for dinner. He needs to have a schedule. He needs to be prepared for when Lincoln shows up. He needs Clarke there before he does, too, but he doesn’t need to tell her that.

He tries not to groan in frustration as he extricates Clarke away from him. But the girl could sleep through a nuclear holocaust if he let her and she’s dead weight when he rolls her to the other side of the bed. Once she’s settled on her pillow—cold from using his chest instead—he crawls carefully out of bed and puts on clothes. As he’s about to leave his room, he looks over his shoulder to look at Clarke just one last time, but he left her with the sheets pooled around her waist and she’s just so _naked_ , he almost can’t leave. But, he takes a deep breath and moves toward her to kiss her on the forehead and pull the sheets up to her chin.

The rest of the house is silent since they were all up too late and it’s only 8 in the morning. He’d be silent and in bed, too, if he had the choice. Instead, though, he’s got to pull gross shit out of a turkey’s ass and then stuff it with bread and vegetables. Clearly, he’s got the best job in the house. When it’s all done and in the oven, he considers going back into his room, but he feels safer staying near the food and the oven, so he falls asleep on the couch.

He feels the kiss on his forehead before he even wakes up fully. By the time he opens his eyes, he can feel the smile tugging on his lips. “Hey,” he says and Clarke smiles back at him. She’s crouching in front of him on the couch and her hands are brushing the curls off of his face.

“I’ve got to go home and change before I head to my parents’,” she says in a quiet whisper. He nods, sitting up and she pushes onto her feet so she can sit next to him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I had to put the turkey in the oven,” he explains and she nods, looking over the back of the couch to see the mess he’s already made in the kitchen. “You don’t need to come for dessert, okay? I know you’ve got family shit to do today.”

“Bellamy, stop it,” she says, like she’s been saying over the last two days. “I want to spend time with you guys today.”

“Good,” he says with a smile and she kisses the corner of his mouth. “I want you here.”

“Then that’s even more reason for me to be here,” she tells him with a small laugh, nudging him with her shoulder. “I don’t even want to leave now,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of it.

He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to him against the cushions of the couch. She snuggles against him and kisses his jaw lazily. They were up late the night before, playing videogames with Miller and Monty and then competing to see who could make the other moan louder in bed. Overall, it was a fun and competitive night that made them hate mornings.

“I have to go,” she says again, but only holds him tighter and he laughs quietly.

Nothing has changed since the two of them sucked it up and admitted that Bellamy was, in fact, Clarke’s boyfriend. But, at the same time, everything has changed. For the first time since he and Roma broke up, he’s happy to belong to someone else. It’s actually the first time probably since he and Roma even got together since he’s felt that way. Ever since the night he and Clarke first got together, he knew she was different. He knew she was causing him to change. And now, here he is, cuddling on his couch with Thanksgiving dinner cooking in the oven. It’s all so _domestic_. But he doesn’t hate it.

“Oh my god,” Octavia gags as soon as she sees them, but they both ignore her. “You guys are disgusting.”

“I’ll kick your ass,” Clarke threatens weakly, lifting her head off of Bellamy’s chest to glare at his sister, but she’s already opening the oven to look at the turkey, so her head falls back with a quiet thud.

“Close it, O,” he yells and his sister sighs, but he’s happy when he hears the oven door shut. Octavia joins them in the living room, curling her feet beneath her in the chair across from the couch, and just stares at them. “What?” He asks her and he can see Clarke’s eyes open again to look at her, too.

“I thought Clarke had to leave early today,” Octavia says and Clarke finally untangles herself from him.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” she says, standing up and he follows her. “I’ll be back at 4.”

“Thank you!” Octavia calls as Clarke drags Bellamy through the house and into the garage.

“Seriously, thanks for coming later,” he tells her and she shrugs like it means nothing.

“What are girlfriends for?” She asks with a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” he agrees. He brushes the hair out of her face and cups her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss. It’s slow and messy and perfect and he hates himself when he has to pull away. “Text me if you get bored. And tell Raven she’s welcome for dessert, too.”

“I will,” she promises before kissing him one more time.

\--

Dinner is winding down, Jasper and Monty have already attempted to start a food fight three times, and Octavia won’t stop looking at the clock. She’s nervous and Bellamy’s exhausted. Keeping the food fights to no more than a flick of potatoes is harder than you’d think. Miller had to actually take Monty’s hand and hold it in his lap at one point. It’s like you put him and Jasper together and they revert back to high school.

“Octavia, for the love of god, please stop checking your phone,” Bellamy explodes and she drops it and folds her hands in her lap immediately. He almost smiles because she’s never listened to him so easily before. He kind of wishes she’d done it when she was a teenager and he had no idea what he was doing. It’s not as exciting when she’s 21 and her own adult.

“Where’s Clarke?” She asks and he sighs, looking past Miller’s head to see the clock.

“It’s 4:02, Octavia, jesus,” he sighs and she looks back at the door like Clarke will materialize with just a glance. He wishes that sometimes, too, though, so he can’t really blame her.

“Lincoln’s going to be here in 28 minutes,” she reminds him for the hundredth time. That day. “And he’s _never_ late.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Clarke calls a second later as she blasts through his door and Octavia smiles so widely, he almost thinks she’s going to jump over the kitchen counter to hug her. But, she doesn’t, she pushes her plate toward Bellamy and looks at it pointedly.

“Sure,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I cooked it. Why don’t I clean it up, too?”

“I’ll help you,” Miller says and he smiles at him as they get up and collect plates.

After he dumps things into the trash and the sink, he greets Clarke with a kiss where she’s taking down dessert plates and handing them to Raven. “How was dinner?” He asks and she shrugs noncommittedly. Raven scoffs and leaves them alone in the kitchen.

Bellamy puts his hands on her hips and pushes her gently into the corner, so their friends can’t see them from the dining room and levels her with a look and she relents.

“My parents are insisting that you come to our family Christmas party,” she tells him and even though his heart starts racing at the implication, he can’t help but admit that it makes sense. He’s already met her mother and they _are_ a couple. Of course they’d expect him to be there. “I know we’re, like, officially boyfriend/girlfriend now, but… I’m not sure I'm ready for that.”

“Okay, then I won’t go,” he tells her easily, though he’s slightly offended. They’re spending at least part of Thanksgiving together. It’s not like it’s any bigger of a deal.

“But I want you there,” she whines and he laughs when she puts her forehead against his chest. “I just- it’s real. And when my dad told me he wanted you there, I can’t picture it. You, in my house, shaking hands with my dad, making small talk with Kane and Jaha. It’s really real.”

“Clarke,” he tries but she picks her head up and shakes it.

“I know you’re all or nothing and this is _normal_ for you, even if you’re just as scared as I am, but I’m not used this,” she admits and he nods.

“Clarke,” he tries again and she clamps her mouth shut. “We’ll figure it out. If you decide you don’t want me there, then just tell them I have a work party that night.”

“If _I_ decide?” She asks and he nods. Before he realizes what is happening, she’s up on her tiptoes, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him hard. It takes him a second to react, but his arms find their way around her and his hands tangle in her hair, holding her close. When she nips at his bottom lip, one of his hands falls to the hem of her dress and works its way underneath to squeeze her ass and she mewls into his mouth.

He only pulls away from her when he hears a clearing of a throat behind him. He rests his forehead against Clarke’s for a second, catching his breath, before stepping away completely and turning around. Miller and Jasper are watching him—Miller with an amused smile and Jasper with a horrified look on his face.

“You get used to it when you live with them,” Miller assures Jasper with a clap on the back, but he just stands there staring. Bellamy looks over his shoulder to see Clarke’s face red and her dress properly covering her again. “We were just coming to get the pies,” Miller tells him and Bellamy swallows and nods, taking Clarke’s hand and pulling her out to the dining room.

While they were in the kitchen, someone had pulled out the extra chairs from the closet, so there’s room for all of them at the table, plus Lincoln. He sits in his seat and Clarke sits between him and Octavia, leaning over to speak quietly to his sister. In seconds, they’re both laughing and he looks up to see Miller and Jasper joining them again.

“4:25,” Miller announces and Octavia stops laughing immediately. “You ready, little Blake?”

“Fuck,” she sighs, standing up and Clarke looks at him with wide, amused eyes.

“You’re going to be nice, right?” She asks him quietly and he shrugs. She punches him in the stomach and he sputters a cough. “ _Right_?”

“Yes, fuck,” he laughs, holding his stomach and she smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Just then, Octavia’s phone dings with a text message and she disappears into the garage.

“I’m so excited,” Miller says with a clap of his hands, and Bellamy glares at him. He’s an adult. He’s a teacher. He deals with people he doesn’t like on a daily basis. He knows how to compose himself. But, then again, none of those people are in love with his little sister.

The five of them still at the table watch the door in silence. Clarke’s gripping his leg like _her_ boyfriend is about to walk inside. “Just, you know, don’t try to fight him,” she says suddenly, still watching the door. “He’s tall. And in really good shape. And… I’ve never seen you do any physical activity in the month and a half we’ve been dating.”

“What about all that physical activity we did last night?” He asks and she laughs, pinching his thigh, just as the door opens.

Bellamy stands up. Why? He’s not so sure. But he’s glad he did because Clarke was right. This guy is _huge_. He doesn’t want to be sitting and look any smaller than he is. And he’s not even _small_. He’d go as far to say he’s slightly above average. But this guy? Holy shit.

“Bell,” Octavia starts slowly, looking right at him. It’s like he’s a rabid dog about to pounce. “This is Lincoln. Lincoln, this is my brother, Bellamy.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says and Bellamy nods, leaning over the table to shake his hand.

“You, too,” he agrees and Clarke stands up and walks around the table.

“Hi,” she says and Lincoln smiles, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. She’s beaming. God. He’s already won over his sister _and_ his girlfriend. “How are you?”

“Great,” he answers. His voice is soft. It’s completely the opposite of what you’d expect just looking at him. But Clarke did say he was the sweetest man in the world, so. “How was your dinner?” He asks everyone and they all answer at once.

“Lincoln,” Bellamy says and his eyes snap to his, so attentive. “This is my roommate, Miller, his boyfriend, Monty, and our friend, Jasper.”

He shakes their hands and Octavia looks on, so proud and happy, and he finally sits down again. Clarke joins him and leans over to kiss him on the cheek again silently.

\--

Octavia left with Lincoln after dessert, saying she’d be back tomorrow. Bellamy waved her off because he just doesn’t want to think about what they’ll be doing until then. Things with Lincoln went well. He's nice, quiet, and clearly in love with his sister. But none of that means Bellamy _likes_ him. At least, not yet. Miller and Monty are cuddled on the couch, napping off their tryptophan hangovers. And Clarke, Jasper, and Raven are doing the dishes and putting away leftovers in the kitchen while Bellamy leans against the counter watching them. He tried to help, but Clarke stepped on his foot until he agreed to back off.

“Jasper,” he sighs again and Jasper looks up at him, holding half a pie in his hands. “Leave it on the counter. I’ll take care of it.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke chastises him. “Go to your damn room and let us handle this. God, you’re so anal sometimes.”

“You’re so fucking bossy,” he says and she flips him off. He laughs, but goes to his room. He is tired, from cooking, from actively trying to be a nice person to his sister’s giant of a boyfriend, from his late night and early morning, and from just… living. People are exhausting when there are so many different personalities and connections.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, really. But when he wakes up to Clarke crawling into bed with him, she shushes him and curls herself around him. His arm moves around her shoulders and holds her against his chest and he kisses the top of her head.

“Where is everyone?” He asks and she responds by resting on top of him completely and hiding her face in his neck, making him laugh. “Clarke?”

“Raven drove Jasper home,” she tells him and he nods. “Miller and Monty are still asleep on the couch.”

“Did they take leftovers?” He asks and she nods. “Good. We’ll never eat it all. Take some dessert into work this weekend. Get that shit out of my house or I’ll eat it all.”

“I hate that you’re so good at this,” Clarke tells him suddenly. She crosses her arms on his chest and rests her chin on them.

“At eating too much? Me too.”

“No, asshole,” she sighs and he bites back a smile. “At being a boyfriend.”

“Well,” he sighs, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear since it’s tickling his neck and he can’t think straight enough with her lying on top of him. “Like you said. It used to be normal for me.”

“Well, I hate it,” she tells him and he scoffs. “You’re better at it than me. I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing. Shut up,” he laughs and he can see the smile on her face even though she’s trying to tamp it down. “You showed up for dessert so I didn’t have to meet my sister’s new boyfriend alone. That’s not failing. That’s actually pretty solid girlfriending.”

“Girlfriending,” she giggles as she rolls off of him and onto her side. He can hear—and see—the exhaustion she’s feeling. And he’s feeling it again, too. “I’ll get better.”

“Seriously, shut up,” he tells her again and he’s surprised that she listens. But, then, he’s not so surprised when her breathing evens out and she’s dead asleep on top of him. As usual.

\--

Bellamy wakes up for the _fourth_ time on Thanksgiving when Clarke rolls off of him, trapping his arm between her and the mattress. “Ugh,” he groans, pulling it out from under her. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him and he covers his head with his pillow. Once he feels her get off the bed, he relaxes into his mattress again, ready to fall back asleep. Clarke has another idea, though, and pulls the pillow off his face. It just makes him grunt again.

“I have to go,” she tells him and he blinks a few times before looking at the clock on his bedside table. It’s 11:30 at night.

“Where the _hell_ are you going?” He asks, sitting up. He just wants to go back to sleep and take her with him. He wants to curl around her body and burrow under his comforter and forget about everything else. He just wants to sleep and be with her. Why is she leaving in the middle of the night?

“Black Friday shopping, obviously,” she says, pulling on her boots and he rolls his eyes. “With Raven, Maya, and Octavia.”

At that, he softens a little and watches her finish getting ready. “I didn’t know you were going shopping,” he tells her and she shrugs, looking around for something.

“Yeah,” she says and her eyes light up when she finds her scarf. “We go every year. If I don’t go shopping tonight, chances are you won’t get a present at all. I hate shopping.”

He gets out of bed as she’s leaning down to kiss him goodbye and it surprises her. “And you invited my sister?” He asks and her eyes narrow so she’s looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Of course I did, Bellamy.”

She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like, why _wouldn’t_ she invite his little sister to go shopping with her and her friends? But to Bellamy? It’s a lot more than that. Octavia never had a lot of girlfriends and, even now, it’s much easier for her to talk to and connect with the guys in Bellamy’s life. She never got along with Roma. It matters that Clarke is making an effort with his sister and, even more so, that it’s working.

He surges forward and kisses her, pressing her against his bedroom door. It takes her a bit by surprise, but within seconds, her hand rises to the back of his neck while her other arm wraps around his waist. With his hands on her face, he tilts her head back and kisses her harder, lingering on her bottom lip until he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against hers with his eyes closed.

Her hands move to his chest and he can feel her breathing rapidly. When he finally opens his eyes, she’s blinking at him and he smiles slowly.

“What wa-“

He cuts her off with another kiss—much softer, much quicker—and pulls away from her. “Thanks for today,” he tells her and her hands drop from his body as she nods, still breathing heavily. “For… That.”

“Thank _you_ for that,” she laughs, running her hand through her hair. “Whatever that was. Now I don’t want to go,” she whines and he laughs.

“Go,” he tells her and she nods, but before she leaves she jumps for him. Her arms wrap around his neck and her legs around his waist, knocking him back a few steps, and she kisses him. Before he’s even able to get a hold of her, she’s on the floor again, smiling goofily. Just like him. “Have fun.”

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting so fluffy. I love it, I do. But I'm going to have to change it up soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in her parents’ neighborhood and have to park his car about a block away from the house and she makes him carry her on his back until they’re close enough to get caught acting like children. His hands are huge and warm on the back of her thighs and his hair smells great, albeit a little like sex.
> 
> “Your parents are going to hate me,” he says, hitching her further up his back and she laughs at the strain in his voice.
> 
> “Hey, it’s your fault we’re late,” she reminds him and she can see the smile on his face. “I had to redo my hair and makeup when we were done or they would have hated you for a hell of a lot more than just being late.”
> 
> “Yeah, yeah,” he sighs and she squeezes him around his shoulders and kisses his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shit, but I'm only a little bit sorry. I wanted to give you all something since it's been awhile. I hope this, shit as it is, helps ease that. (It's not so much shit, as a filler).

She knows Bellamy is going to show up at any second. He is nothing if not unfailingly prompt. He likes to tease her for being late and he has the right to, because he’s never been late once to meet her, whereas Clarke has been late all but a few times. She tries very hard to be on time, but she’s sure her internal clock is a little off. It’s the only explanation.

 So, when her doorbell sounds three minutes before 7, she groans and looks at herself in the mirror. Her makeup and hair are done, her dress is on, she hasn’t decided on a pair of shoes, and she has no idea which clutch to stuff her shit in. But, she can’t just leave him outside in the freezing cold. He rings it again, like she knew he would, and she runs from her bedroom to her front door and unlocks it before pulling it open to reveal Bellamy with his hands in his coat pockets.

“Jesus,” he says frustrated and shivering, looking up from his feet to her and he freezes. “ _Jesus,”_ he says again, looking her up and down. She flushes under his glare and he moves forward to kiss her. His hand cradles her head and it’s freezing, but his kiss is warm and she can’t help but stand on her toes and pull him inside to kiss him deeper—and even warmer.

“Bellamy,” she says, pushing him away, when she realizes how much she still has to do. When he steps back and drops his hands, though, she regrets pushing him away at all. “I’m not ready.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he laughs, running his hand over the back of his neck. He turns to close her door and then nods toward her bedroom and she drags him with her. She watches as he sits down gingerly at the end of her bed and she realizes how weird he looks there. She knows him—and her—on his bed, in his house, with his things. But, here he is, laying his jacket on her bed and resting back on his palms, waiting for her to do something.

“What color shoes?” She asks him, pointing at the options that she set up on the floor. He looks her over again, from her loose waves to her long-sleeved gold dress, to the hem where it falls a few inches above her knees, and back up to her face where her lipstick must look like a clown did it after that kiss.

“You’re talking to the wrong Blake,” he tells her, but she just responds by putting her hands on her hips. She needs help and he’s the only Blake available. “This Blake would much rather take that dress off of you than add anymore clothing, if we’re being honest.”

“Bellamy,” she sighs and he looks down at his options for the first time. She follows his gaze and considers the gold, black, and red pumps she has lined up.

“Red would be pretty festive,” he says and she nods, crossing her arms. “But...”

“A little much, right?” She asks and Bellamy hums his confirmation. “Black it is. Thank you.”

“I literally did nothing, but, hey, I’m happy to help,” he tells her and she laughs as she sits down next to him so she can put her shoes on. She hasn’t worn heels since Roma’s wedding, and if she were a taller girl or had longer legs, she’d never wear them again.

While she’s pulling on the second shoe, she feels the tip of Bellamy’s finger trace the low back of her dress and she shivers—and not because his hands are still cold. She sets her feet onto the floor and leans against his side to nuzzle his neck, pressing a wet kiss against her favorite vein. The fact she has a favorite vein on Bellamy’s neck would definitely make past-Clarke want to punch present-Clarke, but she can’t even pretend to care when his other hand runs up her ribcage.

“If you don’t stop now, we’re going to be even later than we already are,” she warns him as his hand moves steadily toward her breast.

“So, let us be late,” he whispers in her ear and she shivers again because she can’t help it. Bellamy’s voice is a low rumble at normal volume, but when he whispers? Well, there go her panties. Every. Single. Time.

“Okay,” she agrees quietly before swinging her leg over both of his so she’s straddling him.

\--

They arrive in her parents’ neighborhood and have to park his car about a block away from the house and she makes him carry her on his back until they’re close enough to get caught acting like children. His hands are huge and warm on the back of her thighs and his hair smells great, albeit a little like sex.

“Your parents are going to hate me,” he says, hitching her further up his back and she laughs at the strain in his voice.

“Hey, it’s your fault we’re late,” she reminds him and she can see the smile on his face. “I _had_ to redo my hair and makeup when we were done or they would have hated you for a hell of a lot more than just being late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs and she squeezes him around his shoulders and kisses his cheek.

“Okay, you can drop me,” she tells him when they’re passing the Jahas’ house and he does so carefully. She quickly fixes her dress and her hair before taking his hand and they make the rest of the walk quick until they’re busting through her front door.

Raven and Monty spot her, thankfully, before either of her parents do and she and Bellamy meet them in her father’s office to confer. “Where the hell have you been?” Raven asks, glaring at the both of them. Bellamy shrugs helplessly and Clarke waves her off. Raven knows exactly where they were. “Your dad took Wick to talk about work like twenty minutes ago and your mom has come up to us four times to ask about you.”

“Wait, Wick works with your dad? Which means _Monty_ works with your dad?” Bellamy asks and she looks at him like he’s crazy, because he must be if he doesn’t know that.

“JG Labs,” she says slowly. “Jake. Griffin. Also known as my father.”

“You’re a terrible girlfriend,” he sighs, running his hands through her hair and she shoves him in the shoulder and he falls against the door, making her smile.

“Why does it matter where my friends work?” She asks him when he’s standing upright again and she sees Raven level him with a stare. God, she’s so good at that.

“We’re his friends now, too,” Monty reminds her and she realizes how true that is. So she looks at Bellamy with a softer, more understanding look and his face is a little red. He’s _embarrassed_ and it’s adorable.

“You’re right,” she says instead of going over to kiss him like she would if they were alone. “But, since they are your friends now, they could have told you themselves, so I still resent that.”

“You’re not a terrible girlfriend,” he mutters  and she smiles triumphantly before turning back to her friends.

“Okay,” she says with a clap of her hands. “Let’s go get Wick so we can introduce Bellamy to my dad and get this whole thing over with.”

“Yes, let’s,” Raven agrees and they all walk out together. Before they even get three steps into the party, her mother is standing in front of them. Raven takes Monty’s hand and they disappear, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone.

“Clarke, I was worried you weren’t going to make it,” her mother says and Clarke smiles, but Bellamy is the one to speak up.

“My fault,” he says and Abby looks at him with an easy smile. “My iron is broken and we had to iron my suit jacket before we left Clarke’s place.”

“Oh, okay,” her mother nods calmly. “We should find your father. He’s excited to meet Bellamy.”

And, then, she’s off. Clarke takes Bellamy’s hand and they follow her. “He’s gentle, don’t worry,” she whispers to Bellamy and he nods, but she can feel his hand squeeze hers a little tighter when they find Wick talking to her father. She hopes for Bellamy’s sake that Wick hangs around for the initial introduction. Bellamy’s comfortable with Wick.

“Oh, look who finally showed up,” he calls and Clarke sees realization hit her father’s face as soon as Wick calls attention to them. His eyes immediately fall to her hand clasped in Bellamy’s.

“Shut up, Kyle,” she says and his eyes narrow at the use of his first name. It makes Bellamy smile and, for that, she’s glad. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek and she lets go of Bellamy’s hand. “This must be the new boyfriend.”

“Bellamy,” he confirms, holding out his hand. Her dad regards it for just a second before giving it what she knows to be an impressively firm shake. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Please, it’s  Jake,” her dad says and she bites her lip to hide her smile. “You kids want some drinks?” He asks and she nods enthusiastically, making her father laugh. “Let’s go,” he says with a clap on Wick’s back and they all follow him to the bar.

“This party is insane,” Bellamy whispers as they make the walk through the party to get to the bar set up in the dining room. “How rich are you?”

“I’m not rich, they are,” she whispers and he rolls his eyes.

Her father takes their orders and gives it to the bartender before pardoning himself to talk to Marcus and Thelonious about something, but makes sure she and Bellamy knows he’s not finished with them. Abby goes with him and Wick takes the drinks to disperse them.

“I’m not allowed to call him Jake,” he says, whining a little and Clarke knows how much he hates it. Raven has been calling him Jake forever and now Bellamy just got the green light.

“I don’t work for him,” Bellamy reminds him and Wick rolls his eyes as Raven and Monty join them again, like they were waiting for her parents to leave.

“How’s your hand?” Is the first thing out of Monty’s mouth and Bellamy looks at him like he’s crazy. Clarke smiles, but picks up Bellamy’s hand to inspect it.

“It looks like he went easy on him,” she reports and Bellamy scoffs before tugging his hand away. She kisses him on the cheek and leans against his side and his arm fall effortlessly around her waist.

“Remember when he met Finn?” Monty asks and Raven takes a long sip of her drink like she does every time Finn is brought up. “His hand was bruised for, like, a week.”

“Good,” Raven says and Clarke taps her ankle with her toe. Raven smiles at her and Wick changes the subject.

\--

It’s not too much later when Clarke is back in her father’s study. This time, though, she and Bellamy are alone and he’s on his knees behind her father’s desk. She’s got one hand in his hair and the other covering her mouth to keep her moans to a low rumble instead of a loud scream. His mouth is magic and his fingers are fire where they dig into her skin.

When he pulls back and stands up to kiss her, she melts against him, exhausted and he holds her upright. Slowly, he steps back and she falls back and catches herself on her palms. “Is it weird I’ve always wanted to do that?” She asks, still a little breathless and he laughs but shrugs.

“You locked the door, right?” He asks and she sees the realization hit him as he stares at it over her shoulder. She sighs and slides off the desk.

“Yes,” she says, reaching up to fix his hair. He kisses her and pulls her dress down and flattens his palm against her ass, pulling her closer. “No, no, no,” she says, pushing him away and he laughs, putting his hands deep into his pockets.

“We should go,” he says and she nods. “Raven’s going to know exactly what we were doing.”

“She always does,” Clarke agrees and they put her father’s desk back in order. She feels a little bad about dragging Bellamy in there so she could go down on him and then let him go down on her on her _father’s_ desk, but, then again, she’s still reeling from her orgasm and she doesn’t really care all that much at all.

“Have I met everyone I need to meet? Can I go back to being an asshole now?” He asks her as they leave the office and she nudges him with her hip. “What? Being polite is exhausting.”

“Shut up,” she laughs and he throws an arm over her shoulders and kisses her temple. “You’re always polite. You’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Yes, I am,” he says and she can hear a slight whine in his voice that makes her smile against his cheek. “But, seriously, am I done?”

“You’ll probably meet Marcus and Thelonious,” she admits, but she doesn’t care either way. They’re basically family, but she’s not trying to impress them and neither should Bellamy. “Don’t sweat it, though. They already have an opinion of you based off of whatever my parents told them.”

“Oh, great, I love being judged before even meeting someone,” he says and she kisses him on the cheek.

“I never thanked you for coming,” she realizes and he shrugs before his arm fall from her shoulders to across her back. She loves when he keeps her close and she knows he likes having her there when they’re on enemy territory.

“It’s what boyfriends do, right?” He asks and she shrugs because she doesn’t know, not really.

“I wouldn’t know, remember?”

“Well, it _is_ what boyfriends do,” he assures her and she nods, unable to keep herself from smiling.

“Clarke!”

She and Bellamy both turn and she immediately untangles herself from his hold to throw her arms around Wells’ neck. She hasn’t seen him in _years_ and she had no idea he was coming. He never does, not since they graduated high school.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asks him, falling back on her heels.

“I was going to come out for Christmas, but I can’t get the time off work, so I fought hard for the Griffin Holiday party,” he tells her and she smiles. His eyes flash past her and she remembers her boyfriend standing somewhere back there.

“Bellamy,” she says excitedly, turning toward him and he walks over to join them. “Bell, this is my oldest friend _in the world_ , Wells Jaha.”

“Bellamy Blake,” he says and they shake hands.

“My boyfriend,” she says pointedly and Wells’ eyebrows rise practically to his hairline.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods and his arm finds its way around her back again. Her arm goes around his waist and she leans against him and looks up at him. “I think that might be the first time she’s actually admitted to that.”

“Shut up,” she tells him before looking back at her friend. “That’s not true. I’ve admitted it before. Twice, maybe three times.”

Wells laughs and she’s just _so_ happy to see him, but she knows it’s short-lived. He can’t stand to be near his father for too long, not since his mother has died.

“I’m going to go find Wick,” Bellamy tells her and she nods before kissing him quickly. “Find me later.”

She and Wells watch him walk back into the throes of the party. “ _Boyfriend?”_ Wells says as soon as he’s out of earshot and she rolls her eyes before facing him.

“Yes,” she insists. “We’ve been seeing each other for about two months and as much as I think relationships are shit, I think this one is kind of perfect for me.”

“Wow,” Wells says slowly and she nods because no one knows her the way he does. “First real one since Finn, huh?”

“Ugh, yes,” she says, shaking her head at the mention of her ex. “Have you seen everyone?”

“I just got here,” he tells her. “And I just flew in. I put on a suit and walked over just so I could stop in and see you. I’ve got to get some rest. It’s going to be a long couple of days getting chewed out by Thelonious and I need to be prepared.”

“What did you do now, Wells? Quit law school altogether?” She asks, though she knows that’s not it. He would never.

“Oh, no,” he laughs. “He’s just not all that thrilled with the prospect of me becoming a public defender. Still.”

“Fuck him,” she says and he laughs again. “Well, can we get lunch or something before you leave? Talk for real?”

“Of course. I left Monday night open for you and me,” he promises and she hugs him again because he’s there and she can.

“Go get some sleep,” she tells him. “You look like shit.”

“I’ll call you.”

‘I’ll answer,” she promises and he nods before sneaking out the back door. He knows her parents’ house as well as she does. He knows exactly how to get away unseen, but he dresses like he’s going to get caught, just in case.

\--

“Wells disappeared awfully quickly,” Bellamy says as they walk back to his car.

“He just came in to surprise me,” she tells him and he nods. “He was avoiding his father for as long as he could before being stuck with him all day tomorrow.”

“After meeting him, I can’t say I blame the guy,” Bellamy remarks and Clarke laughs. Thelonious and Bellamy far from hit it off. She isn’t even sure how it happened, but they immediately got off on the wrong foot, fighting about politics. Bellamy didn’t even know who it was until after the argument, actually. Raven and Wick just let it happen with evil smiles on their faces.

“He’s not all bad,” she insists and he glares at her from the side. “I mean, he’s far from all good, but he’s not all bad.”

“No one is, I guess.”

“You liked Wells, though, right?” She asks, leaning against his car and pulling him to stand in front of her.

“He seems like a good guy,” he confirms and she smiles. “I was only there for you, though.”

His voice is low again and his breath is warm against her face and she holds him by the lapels of his coat. “Can we go home now?” She asks him and his smile is slow, but he nods. Before going to the driver’s side, though, his lips press against hers in a warm, slow kiss.

He surprises her by opening the door for her, but she slides in, offering him a smile. He’s sliding in next to her almost immediately and starts the car, reaching over to turn her seat warmer on for her and she squeezes his thigh.

As unfamiliar with being in healthy relationships as she is, she knows she is in one now. Bellamy dotes on her without even realizing. She knows he’s used to taking care of people, but she’s not used to being taken care of aside from her parents. She likes it and she likes being able to be there for him, with him. It’s new and scary, but they work so well together, and it’s so easy. She’s sure it’s going to bite her in the ass eventually, but she can’t imagine how or when, not like when they first started sleeping together.

When they pull into his driveway, she lets herself out of the car and he meets her at the door to take her hand and pull her inside. Octavia is at school, getting ready for her finals, and Miller is working late before staying at Monty’s for the night. They have the house to themselves, dressed in formal wear, and it all feels like the night they started sleeping together. Except she knows she isn’t going anywhere in the morning and he isn’t expecting her to.

As soon as they’re inside, Clarke kicks off her shoes and Bellamy follows suit. His socks have colorful patterns she’s forgotten about since he pulled them on at her apartment and she loves them. They’re unlike anything he normally wears, which is all boring and black with some grays and reds thrown in for good measure. His clothes match the way he wants others to see him, but those socks are exactly the way she sees him.

“Hey,” she says suddenly and he turns to look at her with a single raised brow. She steps in front of him and puts her arms around his waist, underneath his coat. “Can we be lazy tomorrow? You know? Just watch Netflix and hang out?”

“I believe the kids these days call it Netflix and Chill,” he says with a playful smile and she laughs out loud.

“Okay, so can we Netflix and Chill, then, asshole?” She asks and he nods. “I want to wear sweatpants and makeout with you and pretend I never have to wear a nice dress and heels again.”

“As long as I can pretend I never need to wear a suit again,” he says and she nods, agreeing quickly. “You’re lucky you’re cute or I would have shown up in my boxers and a pullover.”

“They still would have loved you,” she tells him and he shrugs proudly. “You and Dad hit it off, huh? He always said he’d be a teacher if he had to do anything else. Your life fascinates him. He wants to be you.”

“I want to be me, too, but with his money,” he laughs, making her smile. “But you’d never know he had money if we weren’t at his house.”

Clarke smiles because her father has always been that way. He doesn’t care about the money and the house. He’s only ever cared about doing good work, her mother, and Clarke. Her mother cares slightly more about the money, because she’s used to it and has always had it, but she’s much better than their neighbors and friends. Money to the Griffins means nothing compared to the Griffins themselves.

“You know, they told me that they want to meet Octavia,” she says, sliding off her jacket and gesturing for his. “I think they’re already planning our wedding.”

She says it casually, off-handedly. But as Bellamy hands her his coat, she feels his hand stiffen next to hers and she realizes what she just said. It takes a few seconds for him to let go altogether and when he does, she quickly turns around and hangs both of theirs up, avoiding his eyes.

“Bed?” He asks and she nods, chancing a glance. He’s watching her with dark eyes, darker than normal, at least, and she smiles timidly. When she doesn’t start toward him, he reaches a hand for her and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, folding her hand into his.

As soon as she’s next to him, he kisses her temple and pulls her toward his room. It’s just like any other night with them, but more somehow. And she can feel a heaviness in her chest, but she’s not quite sure what it is. All she knows is she can’t wait to get her dress off, put on a pair of his boxers, and fall asleep against his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're winding down here. There's only one more chapter after this. Hope you like them!

When Bellamy walks into his house, the first thing he does is call out, “Who the hell do we know that drives a Tesla? None of us have any friends who can afford that kind of shit.”

He hears a few snickers, most likely from Clarke and his sister, but no answer. When he turns the corner into the kitchen, he sees why. The two of them are huddled around the kitchen island with Miller and Wells. And it hits him.

“Well, apparently we do,” he says sheepishly and Wells smiles. He looks almost embarrassed and Clarke looks almost offended. “Sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine,” Wells explains and he nods. “I just borrowed it from my father. I drive a Honda, actually.”

“None of my business,” Bellamy says, catching Miller’s amused smile and crossed arms. “I’m an ass.”

“He sure is,” Octavia chimes in. “And you’re right on time, big brother. We’re taking shots.”

“Why are we taking shots on a Monday night? And, more importantly, what are you doing home on a Monday night? Don’t you have finals?” He asks, setting his book bag against the wall. As he leans his elbows on the counter across from Octavia, Clarke’s hand lands on his lower back, scratching lightly.

“I had two finals this morning and I passed in my two final papers this afternoon,” Octavia explains and he nods slowly. “Hence the shots, regardless of what night it is.”

“Alright,” Bellamy agrees, looking at Miller who’s holding the bottle of tequila. “Let’s do this.”

Octavia claps excitedly and Clarke smiles before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Miller passes out the shot glasses and fills them and he can already feel the shot in his gut. Tequila and Bellamy are _not_ friends, but after this, Octavia only has one semester of school left. For that, he’ll be friends with any liquor you set in front of him.

Once they each have a glass in front of them, he stands up straight and clinks his glass lightly against Wells’ next to him. They share a smile and then he turns to Clarke who kisses him just as their glasses touch. It’s quick and they’re surrounded by people, including one person he barely knows, but he wants to revel in it a little longer. But he doesn’t. Instead, the rest of his friends cheers and together, they take down their shots. He tries to keep his pained wince to a minimum, but he sees Miller and Octavia’s knowing looks and he hears Clarke’s tinny giggle in his ear when she rests her chin on his shoulder. Bellamy hates tequila so much.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing hard. “I’m done.”

“Me too,” Clarke agrees, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Miller? Wells?” Octavia asks and she’s got her peer pressure voice on. Most people fall victim to that voice in seconds.

“No thanks,” Wells laughs and Bellamy respects that. Miller, however, doesn’t need to be pressured. He’s already pouring two more shots.

“We should head out for dinner soon, Clarke,” Wells says and she nods before eyeing Bellamy.

“What?” He asks, paranoid. She’s looking at him like he’s in some kind of trouble, which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise him. He’s pretty sure he woke her up at the ass crack of dawn this morning.

“Do you want to come to dinner with us?” She asks him and he smiles a little.

“I can’t,” he tells her sadly, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder at Wells. “I have to get some things graded before break next week and I’m behind. Thanks to you.”

“Don’t blame me,” she laughs and he smiles again. “But, fine. Be an old man and grade your papers and tests.”

“I believe that’s what they call _being_   _a teacher_ , which I happen to be,” he reminds her and she rolls her eyes playfully before standing on her toes to kiss him. “I’ll see you later?” He asks because he’s so used to seeing her later, when she crawls into his bed after a late shift or trivia night. He’s not surprised to find her in his house, waiting for him anymore.

“If you’re lucky,” she smirks and he pinches her hip, making her laugh. “Bye, guys!” She calls out before dragging Wells out with her.

“Nice to meet you,” Bellamy calls after them and Wells waves over his shoulder, still being dragged. He watches the door close behind them and picks his book bag up, hitching it over one of his shoulders.

“Has anyone ever told you that the two of you are sickening?” Octavia asks him and he turns around to narrow his eyes at her. She doesn’t even flinch. She never does.

“You do,” he reminds her. “Every single time she leaves the room.”

“Don’t worry, I tell her, too,” she promises and he flips her off before going into the living room to set up shop for the night. “You love her?”

He stops dead in his tracks and turns slowly to look at his sister. Miller is watching him, too, but he doesn’t look amused this time. No, this time he looks interested and a little bit horrified.

Before answering, Bellamy rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, like he’s getting ready for battle. At least, that’s what it feels like inside of his chest and sounds like inside his head. Octavia’s face is much softer than he was expecting, like her question surprised even her. And the three of them are all just standing in silence, watching each other, and he _knows_ it’s his turn to speak, but he’s not sure what to say. Well, he does. But he’s not sure he _can_.

Thankfully, the door flies open and Clarke’s blonde hair blinds them all as she runs between them and down the hall toward his bedroom. Instead of watching each other, they watch for her to return. She does, holding a pair of gloves and smiling at him.

“It’s fucking freezing,” she tells him and he chokes out a laugh. She smiles again, runs at him, and kisses him hard and quick before disappearing again. His eyes remain on the door until Octavia clears her throat.

“So, yes?” She asks and this time he hears a good natured laugh in her voice. Miller is nodding slowly next to her.

“Shut the fuck up,” he sighs, falling back on the couch.

\--

Bellamy should be more startled when he’s woken up in the middle of the night by someone crawling into bed with him, but he’s not. At all. Instead, he just rolls onto his back and holds his arm out so Clarke can curl around his body. And she does so willingly and dramatically, wriggling all up against him and kissing his cheek over and over again. It’s only when she’s settled against him that he actually notices the time and he sighs.

“It’s late, I know,” she whispers, hooking her leg over him. “I was going to just go home, but I didn’t want to.”

She says it with a smile that’s supposed to make him forgive her for waking him up only a few hours before he needs to be up for work and, to his dismay, she succeeds. “Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to her forehead. When she smiles triumphantly, he rolls his eyes, but that only causes her to kiss him long and hard.

“What are the chances you could just call out of work tomorrow and we could stay up as long as we wanted, doing whatever we wanted?” She asks him, kissing him again as her hand slides down his chest.

“No chance,” he says regretfully. “I can’t, Clarke.”

“I didn’t think so,” she relents with a smile and a much quicker kiss before settling against him again. He holds her closely and, together, they drift off to sleep.

It feels like only seconds later his alarm goes off, but Clarke has rolled away from him and has one arm hanging off the side of the bed. She’s oblivious—as usual—to him getting him out of bed to get ready for work. He does it quietly, though, because although she can sleep through anything when he wants her to wake up, she has a knack for doing it when he’s trying to sneak away to give her as much time as possible to sleep.

So, he showers and gets dressed in the bathroom. He walks through his bedroom in his socks, leaning over to pick up his shoes on the way out and quietly closes the door behind him. Miller is in the kitchen, eating his cereal while standing over the counter, flipping the pages of a magazine quickly. Bellamy’s sure he’s not actually reading it, just using it as something to distract him.

He’s surprised to find Octavia at the table, eating her own bowl of cereal, since she was up late celebrating the end of her semester. But when he looks at her messy hair and tired eyes, he remembers that she always wakes up earliest when she’s been drinking. She’ll pass out sometime around noon and wake up by the time he’s home from work.

“Clarke got in late from her date last night,” Octavia remarks on his way by and he rolls his eyes as Miller snickers into his bowl. “We got home around the same time.”

“Wells is leaving today,” he explains. “He doesn’t come home much.”

“She does know she has her own house to sneak into late at night, right?” Miller asks and Bellamy glares at him. “Not that I care, man. I’m just making an observation. Your house, your girlfriend, not my business. I’m just saying… You’re growing up.”

“Shut. Up,” he tells them both and he sees both of their restrained, amused smiles before he opens the refrigerator to find the juice.

He really wishes he could have taken Clarke up on her offer—to call out of work and stay in bed. But, with finals on the horizon and students freaking out, it’s not something he can do without a real reason.

He steals the cereal box from Miller, along with the milk, and fills his bowl slowly. All the while, he’s thinking of the things he needs to get done at work before break in a week, and he almost doesn’t notice Clarke hopping out of his room, pulling on her shoes on her way to the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing up?” He asks her as she takes his cereal and his juice.

“I got called into work,” she sighs before stuffing her mouth full of _his_ cereal. “The flu is going around, so be careful.”

He’s nodding when she rounds the counter to fix his tie and kiss him. “I didn’t even get to have a bite of that,” he says, pointing to his cereal and she rolls her eyes playfully before kissing him again. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I do, yes,” she nods, pulling the cereal toward her to eat some more. Then, she takes down half of his juice in one gulp before sliding it toward him. “Okay, I’m leaving. I love you.”

“Love you,” he says and she’s gone, running past him to leave through the garage and he waits for the door to close behind her to actually eat his breakfast.

When he looks up from his bowl, though, Miller is looking at him like there’s a tiger or some shit standing in the kitchen with them. And Octavia is standing from the table with the widest eyes he’s ever seen, hangover gone. “What the fuck are you two looking at?” He barks and an absurdly delighted smile breaks out over his sister’s face.

“Dude,” Miller says, but it’s more of an exhale, like he was holding it in and couldn’t anymore. He also has a weirdly delighted look on his face—more restrained than Octavia’s, but still there for Bellamy to notice.

“What?” He asks again, looking to his sister and she claps her hands together a few times. “Oh my god, what the fuck is your problem?”

“She just said she loves you,” Octavia tells him slowly, but excitedly, and his face falls and his heart starts racing.

“And you said it back,” Miller finishes and he falls back to lean against the counter, thinking about the quick appearance and disappearance of Clarke.

“No,” he says slowly, but he _knows_ he’s wrong. It was quick, felt like habit, but it was real. It happened. And he fucking hates everything all of a sudden.

“Yes,” Octavia confirms and he looks at her, helpless. Her face softens and she hurries into the kitchen. “Bell, don’t go all crazy, okay? It’s a good thing. You’re in love. We already knew that; now she does. What’s the big deal? She said it first.”

“I need to go,” he says, pushing past her and then Miller who tries to block him. “I’m going to be late.”

“Bellamy, don’t do anything stupid,” Octavia warns him and he waves her off, picking his bag up from the floor before leaving the house in a haze. Once he’s in his car, he kind of just sits there without starting it. He’s cold and realizes it’s because he didn’t even put on his jacket; he just up and walked out of the house defenseless. Exactly like he feels.

\--

Bellamy’s making dinner—baked macaroni and cheese—while Octavia stands next to him, judging him, when Clarke walks through garage door into the kitchen. He shoves Octavia away from him so he can reach for the cheese he needs and Clarke takes the opportunity to hug him from behind and press a kiss to his neck. It’s quick and it takes him by surprise, but he smiles to himself anyway as she continues through the kitchen, the dining room, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

“You’re so screwed,” Octavia sing-songs and he ignores her.

“Can you give me that grater please?” He asks instead, holding out his hand and she sighs.

“You know, they sell pre-shredded cheese,” she tells him, kicking his ankle lightly. “It would probably make this whole ordeal go much faster.”

“Octavia, you wanted me to make _my_ macaroni and cheese,” he reminds her and she sighs again, leaning against the counter on her forearms to glare at him. “So, that’s what I’m doing. Either deal with it or make your own dinner.”

“I think we both know I’d be much more likely to starve than make my own dinner,” she says and he smirks. She hates cooking. She’s not bad at it, not at all, but she _hates_ it more than almost anything. “Do you want me to starve, Bellamy?”

“Get out of the kitchen or I’ll make sure you do,” he promises and she rolls her eyes before leaving him in the kitchen to sit on the couch and watch television. He does love having her home. He even loves when she asks him to cook her favorite meal. But when they’re spending too much time together, in too close quarters—like their below average sized kitchen—he’s ready to rip her hair out, strand by strand.

He hears the sound of some _Seinfeld_ rerun that he knows she’s seen a hundred times already, but he doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s immersed in it as ever. With her out of his hair, he’s able to get dinner in the oven to bake in record time.

Once he’s set the timer and turned around, Clarke is standing at the table, stuffing shit into one of his Ikea totes. “What are you doing?” He asks her and she shoves the last thing in and smiles up at him.

“Don’t worry,” she says, putting the tote full of crap on the floor by her feet. “I’ll bring the bag back.”

“That wasn’t really my concern,” he admits and her eyebrows furrow in confusion. If he wasn’t so confused himself, he’d probably find it adorable. As it is, though, he just walks over to stand in front of her. “You going somewhere?”

“I’ve got to wash everything in that bag,” she tells him and he looks over her shoulder to see it is exclusively full of clothes.

“So, you’re bringing it to your apartment where you need to pay to do laundry instead of just doing it here for free?” He asks. By this point, he can see Octavia watching them from over the back of the couch. She’s trying to hide it, but she’s not very covert.

“I’ve got a lot of other shit to do, too,” she shrugs and he just gets more confused. But then he remembers what happened in the morning, when they told each other they loved each other without even meaning to. Before he has a chance to say something about it, she’s talking again, though. “And, you know, I haven’t decorated my apartment for Christmas and the Christmas party is _this_ weekend. I’ve got a lot of-“

“Shit to do,” he finishes and she nods. “No, I get it,” he says slowly and she bends down to pick the bag up. “Wait, you’re going _now_?”

“Well, why not?” She asks innocently, but she doesn’t pick the bag up after all. He takes a step closer to her and can see how nervous she is. Or, maybe it isn’t nerves. Maybe she’s just scared.

“Is this about this morning?” He asks her finally because he needs to know. He’s scared too, but he’s not running away. By this point, Octavia isn’t even trying to pretend she’s not listening and watching them. She’s on her knees on the couch, leaning her elbows on the back of it, with her chin in her hands.

“What happened this morning?” She asks, feigning oblivion. It actually makes him mad. He actually _wants_ to talk about it now, as opposed to pretending like it never happened, which was his original plan. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—as he’s about to just come out and say it, Miller and Monty walk through the front door and Clarke leaves their conversation to greet her friend.

He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs before looking at his sister. He sees pity all over her face and when he looks at Miller, he can tell that he knows exactly what he just walked in on.

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes,” he tells them all, effectively moving on from the conversation. Clarke looks at him from Monty’s embrace and smiles. To anyone else, he’s sure it looks like a normal smile. But to him, it looks sad and confused and scared. It looks like exactly how he feels.

He smiles back, though, and walks into his bedroom. He’s not surprised that Octavia and Miller are in there too by the time he’s sitting on the edge of his bed. “What the fuck is going on?” Miller asks, sitting next to him while Octavia sits on his other side. “Why is that bag full of her shit?”

“She’s leaving to do laundry at her apartment,” Octavia explains and Miller just shrugs and waves his hands, asking for more information. “Like, she’s _leaving_ and making sure none of her shit is left behind. And Bellamy actually asked her if it had to do with what happened this morning.”

“Shut the fuck up. He did?” Miller asks and Bellamy rolls his eyes, flopping back to lie on the bed.

“I’m sitting right here, assholes,” he reminds them and they both turn so they can look down at him. “It’s fine. It’s not like she’s breaking up with me. Calm the fuck down.”

“You don’t seem very calm yourself, big brother,” Octavia tells him gently and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to see their pitiful faces any more.

“I’m fine,” he scoffs.

They don’t say anything for a few seconds, so he opens his eyes and he sees Clarke standing in front of them. She looks at Octavia and Miller and they scatter out of his room, closing the door behind them.

“I thought you were leaving,” he says, still lying on the bed. She sighs and pulls him to sit up by his hands. He grunts, but then she runs a hand through his hair, so he rests his forehead against her stomach and just rests against her in silence.

“I’m working nights the rest of this week,” she tells him finally. “I don’t normally do that, as you know, so I don’t want to throw off your schedule just because mine is all fucked up. I know this is a big week for you at work, with finals and vacation coming up. I’m not, like, running away to my apartment to punish you. I’m trying to _save_ you.”

He believes she’s working nights, because she already told him that two days ago, but he definitely thinks she’s using that as an excuse. But, what is he supposed to do? Fight her on it? Beg her to stay? She doesn’t _actually_ live at his house. She’s free to go whenever she pleases. But that doesn’t make this feel any less shitty.

“How do you feel about macaroni and cheese?” He asks her, lifting his head from her stomach to look up at her. She smiles, but at least now it seems more genuine.

“I love it,” she says and he smiles.

“So, you’ll at least stay for dinner?” He asks, only slightly ashamed at how desperate he sounds.

“Hell yes,” she promises and he stands up to kiss her. She hugs him tightly, kissing him back, and he doesn’t care that she’s staying at her place for a few days, so long as she’s coming back at some point. He’s in too deep to deny that she’s his favorite thing about his life at the moment, that she makes him smile more than anyone ever has, that she fits so easily against his side and in his life. He’ll never be in too deep to admit that all of that is fine and not scary at all, but at least he knows it. He knows he loves her and it scares the shit out of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is coming soon. Stay tuned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you going to do about it?”
> 
> “About what?”
> 
> “Being in love with him, idiot,” Raven says, rolling her eyes. Clarke shoves her, but she doesn’t move. “When he comes over tonight, what’s going to happen?”
> 
> “Nothing special,” she promises and, this time, Raven shoves her. She does move, right into her fridge. “Jesus, Raven. What am I supposed to do? Tell him I love him and have sex with him in front of everyone?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Raven confirms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO bad at ending things. I'm sorry if this sucks, but I tried. Honestly, I really tried.

Her apartment is decked out in Christmas decorations and sparkles. There is mistletoe hanging in practically every doorway. For once, it actually looks like she lives there. And for the last few days, she has.

Her apartment looks great—it looks ready—but Clarke’s still wearing her college sweatpants and a t-shirt she stole from Bellamy. Her hair is a mess on top of her head and she doesn’t even remember the last time she put makeup on. When Raven lets herself into the apartment, she just stops and stares at her.

“Thanks for coming,” Clarke says, ignoring the look on her best friend’s face and standing up from the couch. “I didn’t realize how much food I still had to make for tonight.”

“No problem,” Raven shrugs, walking slowly toward the kitchen. Clarke falls into step behind her and, together, they start taking out all of the shit they need. “So, why isn’t your boyfriend helping you with this? Isn’t that kind of the point of a boyfriend? He didn’t even _offer_?”

“It’s Bellamy,” she scoffs, sifting some flour. “ _Of course_ he offered. I just brushed him off and told him I’d see him tonight.”

Raven nods, cracks an egg into a bowl, and Clarke can feel her eyes on her, watching her. “Is something going on with the two of you?” She finally asks and Clarke sighs because she was kind of expecting the question. She’s been expecting it all week, really.

“No,” she says quickly, pushing her bowl away from her to wipe her hands over the sink. “We’re fine.”

“Really? Because all your snaps this week have been either here or at the hospital,” Raven tells her, like she needs to b e reminded, and Clarke actually laughs. How closely is she watching her snapchats? “I’m just saying, ever since you two got together, I’ve seen a lot of Bellamy in your life and your snapchats. He’s been missing for four days. And you’ve been avoiding the subject every time I bring it up.”

“Bellamy and I are fine, Raven. I’ve been working nights, you know that.”

“I also know that you love him and love his house and being a part of his life and having him be a part of yours, so…”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Clarke asks. “You, Wells, everyone keeps saying that I’m in love with him. Fuck, I barely know him.”

“Fuck that,” Raven laughs—too loudly. It actually makes Clarke smile, how funny Raven thinks it is. “You love him and you know him. You’re, like, _in it_. You are in so deep, Griffin. And now you’re hiding.”

“Wells hung out with us for, like- no lie, Raven, 10 minutes- and he teased me about it all through dinner. About how perfect we are for each other, which is ridiculous. Like, we’re not perfect at all, let alone for each other. And he wouldn’t stop talking about it—about how much I smile around him or even just talking about him. It freaked me out, but then, you know, I went home and got into bed with him and it was _perfect,_ just like Wells said,” Clarke admits.

Her heart is racing. There are tears in her eyes. And Raven is just smiling at her, like she’s so happy to hear Clarke admit something real about Bellamy. Because she’s been trying so hard to keep it all inside, so that when it explodes in her face it would be easier to hide from.

“And then I told him I loved him before I left for work,” she admits, crumbling into herself. Raven’s smile drops and she steps toward her. When Clarke feels the hand on her shoulder, she looks up. “It was so fast. I didn’t even realize I said it. Honestly, it just came out and he said it back and I left for work. And then everything Wells said to me came back and I… left. And he didn’t fight me on it.”

“Well, you said it, kid,” Raven smiles. “He’s Bellamy. He’s not going to fight you on it. He loves you and he’s just as scared as you are.”

“That’s fucking crazy, Raven,” she laughs, bringing her bowl of cookie dough in front of her so she can start getting it ready for the oven. “Cray, cray, crazy. It’s so dumb. It makes no sense. We can’t be _in love_.”

“Okay, now you just sound like an idiot,” Raven said, shaking her head. Clarke rolled her eyes and shrugged. She isn’t wrong, but still. No one likes being called an idiot. “What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?”

“Being in love with him, idiot,” Raven says, rolling her eyes. Clarke shoves her, but she doesn’t move. “When he comes over tonight, what’s going to happen?”

“Nothing special,” she promises and, this time, Raven shoves her. She does move, right into her fridge.  “Jesus, Raven. What am I supposed to do? Tell him I love him and have sex with him in front of everyone?”

“Yeah,” Raven confirms and Clarke laughs. “Well, maybe you should take him to your bedroom for the sex part. Jasper might have too much fun watching you guys have sex.”

“You’re disgusting and I hate you.”

“I’m hilarious and you love me.”

\--

Hours later, Clarke has on a wine colored dress with lace long sleeves. Her hair is curled softly over her shoulders, and she actually has makeup on. She looks pretty damn good, if she does say so herself. After they each made a dessert and an appetizer, Raven left to get ready herself and she’s back now with Wick in tow. Jasper is flirting with Maya over the punch bowl. Harper and Monroe are on the couch, trying to listen to his terribly worded compliments. Every few minutes, Clarke sees them hiding laughs behind throw pillows. Some people she knows from work are scattered around, too, mingling with her friends and her friends’ friends. Bellamy, however, is nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” She asks Raven, tugging her by the elbow away from Wick and Fox.

“He’s late,” Raven shrugs, wrenching her fingers off of her. She’s wearing the sweater that she won on Sunday Funday and Clarke looks around to see if Miller is wearing his, but he’s not at her house yet, either.

“Miller and Monty aren’t here, either,” she remarks and Raven nods, fluffing her hair over her shoulders. It’s so strange to see her with her hair down, but Clarke has always told her how good she looks that way. But she always feels self conscious.

“Well, they’re probably all coming together,” she says and Clarke considers it. “And Octavia and Lincoln.”

“You’re so smart,” Clarke tells her with a smile and Raven rolls her eyes before heading back to the conversation Clarke had torn her away from.

When she walks back into the living room, she feels the chill of the outside, so she looks toward the door expectantly. It’s Miller—in his sweater—and Monty. Just the two of them. She deflates a little, but sucks it up quickly enough before going to greet them. She gives Miller a hug first before burrowing into Monty’s much stronger embrace. She’s not sure Miller is much of a hugger.

“I’m glad you could make it!” She tells them excitedly. The Christmas party really is one of her favorite nights of the year. “And I’m glad you’re wearing your sweater, Miller.”

“Monty and Bellamy made me,” he admits and Clarke smiles.

“Is he here?” She asks because, well, she just can’t help it.

“Nope,” Monty says with a quick squeeze of her shoulders before letting her go to take off his coat.

“ _Not yet_ ,” Miller adds forcefully and Monty reddens a little with an excited smile. Before she’s able to question them, Miller continues. “He and Octavia went to pick Lincoln up. They should be here any minute.”

Then, Miller is gone toward the punch and Clarke turns to look at Monty. He’s not looking at her, but at his feet. She steps on one to get his attention and he yelps before finally looking at her again. “What is going on with you, weirdo?” She asks and he forces an easy smile, except it’s not easy at all.

“Nothing,” he laughs. “I need a drink,” he says before leaving her standing alone near the front door. She’s facing it, confused as hell, when Bellamy enters with Octavia and Lincoln trailing behind him. She probably looks like a crazy person, just standing there. Like she was _waiting_ for him. Which she absolutely wasn’t.

“Hi,” she says and he smiles a little before leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey,” he says, taking off his coat. He turns back to take a dish out of Octavia’s hands and give her his jacket in return. “I’m going to put this in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s gone and her brows furrow as she watches him leave. She turns back to Octavia and Lincoln, who’s closing her door behind him, and she tries to smile. “We made chili,” Octavia tells her and Lincoln scoffs.

“Bellamy made chili,” he corrects her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Octavia was texting me the whole time.”

“Okay, that’s true,” Octavia admits with a sheepish smile. “But I did test it and it is amazing.”

“Awesome,” Clarke says and looks over her shoulder, but Bellamy is still in the kitchen.

“You look good,” Octavia says loudly, bringing Clarke’s attention back to her. “I like that dress.”

“Thanks, I’ll take your coats,” she says, reaching for them. Octavia hands them to her with a confused glint in her eye, but Clarke just turns toward her bedroom. It’s not _only_ because she’ll have to go through the kitchen on the way, but that’s definitely a factor.

He’s in there, talking to Jasper, but when he sees her he makes up a terrible excuse and grabs her elbow, dragging her away from Jasper and the kitchen. He opens her bedroom door, takes the coats out of her hands, throws them onto the bed and pulls her inside. He’s frantic and it actually a little nerve racking. And he only calms down when his hands find her hips.

“Hi,” she says, running her hands up his arms to squeeze his shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I love you,” he blurts out and she almost wants to laugh at how sudden it is, but she just stares at him instead. They just stare at each other. Until, finally, he says something more. “I was going to do that better, but then Jasper trapped me in there, so I panicked and my plan kind of failed.”

“It turned out okay,” she tells him, still in a daze. “I’m just working it out in my head.”

He smiles a little at that and she bites her bottom lip as she looks over his face—his stupidly freckled, handsome face. She _hates_ his face. And his arms that are way too big. And his stupid Christmas sweater that hugs his chest just right. She hates it all. Honestly.

“I love you, too,” she admits quietly before biting her lips harder. “ _Fuck_.”

“I know, it sucks,” he says, pulling her against his body and she laughs. “Are you done working nights for now?”

“Yes,” she nods and he smiles again. Actually, he can’t stop smiling. It’s adorable and makes her own smile grow.

“So, you can come home now?” He asks and she stunned into silence. _Home._ “I mean…” He breathes and she can see he’s nervous. “Can you come back to my house? Like, tomorrow?”

“Yes, I hate it here,” she laughs and he kisses her. She kisses him back hard because she missed him and his lips and his arms and his whole self. It was only four days, but damn. She’s in so fucking deep, it’s not even funny.

He stops kissing her and lets go of her to pull something out of his back pocket. It’s a key. “Here,” he says, shoving it toward her. She takes it slowly.

“I already have your spare key,” she reminds him. “Octavia gave it to me, like, a month ago.”

“I know,” he admits, folding her fingers around it. “But it’s symbolic. I should be the one giving you the key to my house, not my sister.”

“Probably,” she laughs. She puts the key behind her on her dresser and turns back to Bellamy. “Thank you,” she tells him seriously.

“You know, you could live there for real.”

He says it slowly, quietly—like he’s still not sure he wants to say it. He’s a fucking idiot. But so is she.

“I shouldn’t,” she tells him carefully and he nods. “Bellamy. It’s only been two months. That’s insane.”

“I know, but,” he shrugs and she smiles. “It’s not like you’re going to miss this place.”

“I know,” she says. “But, let’s be real. We’re still bound to fuck this thing up at some point, right? I haven’t been in a relationship in _years_ and your last relationship was with _Roma_. I think we should keep the idea on the table, definitely, but we need to be careful, too.”

“You’re right,” he says and she kisses him again. “But the key is yours. And so is the house for all I care. This week fucking sucked. Lincoln stayed over almost every night and I was alone in bed with a pillow over my head so I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh god,” she cringes. “I’m sorry I left you alone to deal with that.”

“It’s okay, you had to work,” he says seriously, but a smirk breaks out by the end of it. “I need a drink. What about you?”

“You read my mind.”

\--

She’s resting with her back against Bellamy’s chest, watching Miller and Monty play Mario Kart on her TV. There’s a small group still hovered around them, but it’s late, so most everyone has left. Raven is watching them with certain intensity, her legs folded into her sweater with her chin resting on her knees. Octavia is sitting on Lincoln’s lap on the chair against the wall, but she’s close to sleep and he’s too busy playing with the ends of her hair to pay attention to the game. Harper is resting with her back against the couch, cheering Monty on. And she and Bellamy are standing behind them all, drinking white Russians slowly while Bellamy takes on the role of Miller’s cheerleader. He’s much more subdued than Harper, though.

Bellamy’s hand—the one not holding his drink—is resting on Clarke’s hip and his lips keep moving against her temple when he talks. She’s dead weight on her feet, feeling the stress of hosting a party leave her body, replaced with utter exhaustion. The arm around her body is holding her upright, really, and she turns within it to lay her head on his shoulder and kiss his neck lazily. He squeezes her and kisses her hair, but goes right back to cheering Miller on.

She hears the commotion of the end of a game and turns just her head to see Monty thrust his fist in the air at his win. She smiles when he leans over and kisses Miller who just rolls his eyes and kisses him back halfheartedly.

“Everyone out,” Raven announces and Clarke smiles at her and throws her arms around Bellamy’s neck. Everyone calls out a goodbye and Bellamy throws his keys at his sister so she can drive herself and Lincoln home while Bellamy stays with her.

She waits for the door to close one last time before standing on her toes—her heels long gone—and kissing Bellamy. He doesn’t hesitate to put his drink down and kiss her back, holding her tightly. When his hand slides down her back to sneak under her dress she laughs against him.

“Did you miss me?” She asks.                       

“Fuck yes,” he says, emphasizing it with a squeeze and she moans before kissing him again. He doesn’t waste any time lifting her up so her legs can wrap around him. He carries her down the hall to her room and toes the door open. But he stops quickly and drops her to the floor. “Holy shit.”

“What?” She asks, turning around. As soon as she does, though, she regrets it and has to stop herself from screaming. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She pushes him out to the hallway and closes the door behind her. “I’m going to kill them both,” she promises and Bellamy laughs. “It’s not funny, Bellamy.”

“It’s kind of funny,” he tells her and she glares at him hard enough to make him stop laughing. “I’m sorry, but, come on. Jasper and Maya are naked in your bed, passed the fuck out, when we all thought they left like two hours ago. That’s funny.”

“I’m going to have to move in with you just so I never have to sleep in a bed where Jasper has had sex,” she tells him and he laughs again. “Cleaning my sheets will not be enough.”

He’s still laughing when she takes his hand and pulls him back to the living room. She slips on a pair of moccasins she always leaves near the couch and puts on her jacket. “My jacket is under Jasper’s ass,” he reminds her and she shrugs. “I’ll get it later.”

“Good plan,” she says, finally letting the ridiculousness of the situation wash over her. She laughs, almost uncontrollably and she catches Bellamy’s shake of his head, his arms crossing over his chest as he tries and fails to hold in his own laugh. “Oh my god. We need to go before one of them wakes up and blindly walks out here naked. I can’t see anyone else’s bare ass unless it’s yours.”

“Well, then let’s go so we can make sure you see it before one of us falls asleep,” he says, reaching for her hand. She takes it and hands him her keys because, honestly, she’s not in the mood or condition to drive. Bellamy, on the other hand, drank half as much as she did and he did so at a much slower pace. Always the responsible one, that Bellamy. Well, almost always.

He lets go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her as close as possible as they walk to her car. Without his coat, she knows he’s cold. But she also knows he likes having his hold on her. And she likes it, too, especially after not touching him for four days. God, it seems like it was a lot longer than four days, but she still missed him. And now she doesn’t have to. He’s there.

The ride back to his house is quick and it’s quiet inside. They can barely hear the din of Miller’s TV in his bedroom and as they walk deeper into the house, they can hear Octavia laughing about something Lincoln has said.

Clarke hugs Bellamy from behind and kisses the back of his neck. He hesitates a second before holding her hands against his stomach and humming. She rests her cheek on his shoulder and sighs. “I’m so fucking tired,” she tells him and he chuckles in her arms. “Like, so exhausted. And my house is a mess. And Jasper and Maya fucked in my bed.”

“Rough night,” he tells her and she groans, letting her hands fall. Bellamy turns around and cups her cheeks. “I’m tired, too. Let’s go to bed.”

“I was _really_ looking forward to having sex tonight,” she whines and he laughs, kissing her forehead. “Like, a lot.”

“I’m still not looking forward to you falling asleep during sex, though, so we should just go to sleep,” he reminds her and she laughs.

“Ugh, I guess you’re right. But tomorrow morning, get ready, man. I’m going to rock your world.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, rolling his eyes and she pushes him toward his bedroom. She can feel herself getting more and more tired with every passing second.

She rifles through his drawers for a pair of his sweatpants and a tank top and he strips down to his boxers, watching her. “I worked so hard to get a solid collection of clothes here and then I went and fucked it all up,” she sighs, pulling the shirt over her head.

“Yeah, why’d you do that?” He asks, sitting at the edge of the bed. She sighs, but she can’t be angry. She left and took all of her shit with her for legitimate reasons—laundry and working nights—but there was way more to that. He’s not an idiot.

“Because I didn’t mean to tell you I loved you that morning and I needed some space,” she admits, flopping down on the bed next to him.

“You could have just said that,” he tells her, lying carefully by her side. “Hell, I even asked if it was about that and you pretended like you had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Well, you’ve fallen in love with a fucking shithead, Bellamy. And she doesn’t know what she’s doing _and_ she’s afraid of love and relationships. So, she runs.”

“Can we skip the running part next time?” He asks her, so earnestly it makes her smile and turn on her side so she can drape an arm across his chest.

“We can try,” she tells him and she can feel his laugh under her arm. “I am trying.”

“You make it seem like this is easy for me,” he says and she drapes the rest of her body over his so she can look down at his face. “I’m fucking scared, too. So, let’s be scared together, huh?”

She considers it, considers his face as he looks up at her, and she nods.

\--

Waking up surrounded by Bellamy is Clarke’s favorite way to wake up. He’s always at least 5 degrees warmer than she is, he smells good— _always_ , and she’s not sure how—and he’s so comfortable. He’s like some kind of magic pillow made just for her. It’s great.

She feels him stir awake and she turns around to face him. “Hey, I love you,” she tells him and he blinks up at her.

“I know?”

She smiles and kisses him, morning breath and all, and waits for his hand to tangle in her hair before moving on top of him completely.

“I just thought I should say it once both knowingly and without being scared shitless,” she admits and he smiles. “Well, I’m still scared shitless, but I had you for a second, right?”

“Totally,” he promises. “I could have sworn you had gotten over what we talked about eight hours ago. Fooled me.”

“Yay,” she says, kissing him again, and he laughs into it.

“I seem to remember you promising to rock my world this morning,” he says, kissing her over and over between words. She laughs and lets him flip them over, resting her feet on the bed so she can cradle him between her legs.

“I will keep that promise,” she assures him and he smirks wickedly. “But you need to make me a promise in return.”

“I can do that,” he says, kissing a line down her throat. “I promise to-“

“No, no, no,” she says, pushing against his shoulders to get him to look her in the eye. “I need you to promise me something specific.”

“Okay,” he sighs, his hot breath fanning over her face. She starts to regret starting this before they had a chance to brush their teeth.

“Can you promise to make me chocolate chip pancakes when we’re done?” She asks, smiling innocently up at him. He groans out a laugh and she pulls him in for another kiss. “Wait,” she says, pushing him away again. “Was that a yes? I need verbal confirmation before this goes any further.”

“Okay,” he says rolling off of her. “Let’s do this now,” he tells her. She tries to pull him back into bed, but he’s too quick and then her stomach growls and he looks over his shoulder and smiles at her.

“Okay, that wasn’t my plan, but I won’t say no,” she says, getting out of bed while Bellamy pulls on some sweats. “But I will still keep up my end of the bargain.”

“Food before Bellamy,” he says as they walk to the kitchen. “I’ve known this all along. I still like you.”

“ _Love_ me,” she corrects him and he laughs.

“Yeah, that too,” he admits.

She can’t keep the smile off of her face as she sits on the counter and watches him move around his kitchen to make their breakfast. It’s not long before Octavia and Lincoln drag themselves out of her room. Both dressed in pajama pants and oversized tank tops. They’re easily the most beautifully intimidating couple she’s ever seen. And they’re so effortless. And so nice. They’re really the whole package.

“Do I see chocolate chips?” Octavia asks, peeking over Bellamy’s shoulder.

“Yes,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Do you think I need to make enough for Miller and Monty?”

“Yes,” Miller calls as he and Monty join them. “And bacon?”

“You can make bacon,” Bellamy reminds him. “Or Octavia. Or literally anyone else.”

“Fine,” Miller sighs, but he goes about making the bacon quickly.

Bellamy stands at the griddle, right next to where Clarke is sitting, to make the pancakes. As one side heats up, his hand slides across her lap to squeeze her hip, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. He smiles, still watching the pancakes, and she kisses his cheek again because, why not?

She slides off the counter and starts a pot of coffee. Octavia, Lincoln, and Monty are sitting at the table, so once the pot is brewing, she joins them. She watches Bellamy’s bare back as he finishes up the pancakes and she smiles to herself. Well, she’s lost in her own mind and thinks it’s to herself, but when Octavia kicks her in the shin she knows she was caught.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Octavia tells her quietly, so Bellamy can’t hear, Clarke guesses.

“I am, too,” she promises and Octavia smiles.

“Did you tell them about how we ended up here?” Bellamy asks her when he brings out two plates filled with chocolate chip pancakes and she covers her face and laughs.

“Yeah, I was wondering that,” Lincoln admits.

Clarke gets up and lets Bellamy sit down so she can sit on his lap. She waits until Octavia and Monty come back with plates and silverware for everyone and Miller comes in with the bacon before jumping into the story. When she tells them, everyone—Bellamy included, Monty especially—breaks out laughing. They’re all folded over and Clarke can barely get it out because she can’t stop laughing herself.

“He’s such a dick,” Monty says. “But I’m happy he finally got laid. He’s been trying to get with Maya for months.”

“I know, I can’t even be mad at him,” Clarke says and they all laugh again.

\--

In bed, only an hour after breakfast is finished, Clarke curls into Bellamy’s side and kisses his chest. “So, did I do it?” She asks and he laughs.

“Yes, consider my world rocked,” he tells her and she smiles against him. “How were the pancakes? Did they pass the test?”

“You’ve pretty much passed every test,” she promises and his smile is so smug. “You know, Wells is really excited about us. He’s the one that got me all nervous about you again. He could see everything and he was right.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Us being perfect for each other,” she tells him quietly and he pulls her tighter against him so he can kiss the crown of her head. “So, Miller and Monty knew about your plan last night, right?”

“Yeah, they heard me and Octavia talking about it, why?”

“Monty couldn’t look me in the eye when I asked about you,” she tells him and he rolls his eyes. “He’s a sucker for love declarations.”

“I could tell,” he laughs. “He was very excited for us, too.”

“And you are, too, right? Excited, I mean. About us?”

“I am definitely excited,” he nods and she kisses him. “This is all new to me, so, you know. It should be interesting.”

“Right? Like, we already know we’re no good at this. It’s like a game to see just how much we can fuck it up and still come out together on the other side.”

“Can’t wait,” he tells her, looking at her so seriously.

“Me either,” she promises. “Here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. Seriously, I love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I've written anything readable. I probably shouldn't have jumped back in with a multichap, but here we are.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


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